Return
by GypsyFilmGirl
Summary: In the Army, Damon is a name among soldiers. He's been through things most people would run from, and done some wouldn't dream. But now, after his 4th tour of duty, he's come home. Things change drastically, and he may have to start all over from the beginning to get back to where he was, learning some things about himself in the process.
1. Home Again

Elena literally bounced on her toes, watching between the lighted schedule on the wall of the airport and the busy runway outside. People exited gates from every direction and flooded the main lobby, but none were who she waited so anxiously for. Businessmen, tourists. No armymen.

"Are you sure the letter said nine?" Elena asked Stefan, who looked as calm as could be on the bench behind her.

"Elena, it's not nine yet. It's two minutes until," he chuckled, patting the seat beside him. "Sit with me." She laughed this time, shaking her head but never tearing her eyes from the window peering out. Sit down? It'd been been fifteen months seen she'd seen him. Four hundred and fifty-nine days. And he wanted her to _sit down _when she was so close to seeing him? He really was funny sometimes.

"I'm glad they didn't extend his deployment again," she heard him say as he patted a brochure against his hand. Again. If they did it again, Elena might go insane. He was only supposed to be gone for six months. Then six months turned into eight. And eight morphed into another seven. She was at this gate seven months ago, waiting just like she was now, and while wives and husbands and children were all clinging to their loved ones, Elena and Stefan were greeted with a note of miscommunication. Damon's time of deployment had been added to and he wasn't coming home. He'd been moved to a new location in lieu of that day. There was an apology, but it helped none. She ached to see him and to kiss him and to hear his voice that wasn't inside a screen. But she was being forced to wait. So, for a few more months, Elena let the video calls sate her need to see him.

"Me too," she agreed, but knew Stefan was inadvertently reminding her of the possibility of it recurring. But they couldn't do it again. It wasn't fair. Could they really expect him to go any longer without seeing his family? Elena started to pace the length of the bench where Stefan was.

"They wouldn't do it twice, would they?" She bit her lip as she stopped in front of Stefan. He peered up at her and gave an aggravated shrug. The idea made him bothered too.

"It's the government. They can do whatever they want." She didn't like that answer.

"But he's been gone so long." Hardly a standing argument, she knew. But that's all she could think about. Stefan slid to the edge of his seat and rose, setting a hand on either of her shoulders.

"He's coming home. Don't get negative." She took a sharp breath. Right. He was. She nodded, squeezing her own arms in a silent pep talk with herself. Over Stefan's shoulder, people were edging closer to the gate where Damon was supposed to be in the next few minutes. People were smiling. Kids were cheering, running the other direction. Already? Elena spun around to see a line of army green already spewing from the exit gate. Her heart kicked into high-gear as she started scanning the crowd for his face. In seconds' time, she saw him. Those piercing blue eyes locked on hers and sent her into a frenzy of excitement. She shot from Stefan's reassuring grasp and towards Damon. Finally, finally, finally! He dropped his bag and instantly pulled her body to his as she left the ground, flinging her legs around him.

"You're really here!" she sobbed into his shoulder, holding him so tightly he thought she might cut off his breathing. "Oh my god, you're here, you're here!" He laughed, half-close to crying himself. He thought he would never get back here to see her again. She finally let her vice-grip hug go to get the kiss she wanted so damn bad from him. She grinned when she saw the five o'clock shadow and lovingly ran a hand over it. She loved that look on him. A whole other layer of hot.

"How did you manage this?" He smirked to himself, rubbing a hand over his scruffy chin.

"I said that since they held me out for nine extra months, the least they could do was let me get away with a little beard for my babe. Would you believe it worked?"

"Damn least they could do!" She shook her head, smiling through tears, and planted a long kiss to his lips. "_I have missed you so so much, Damon Salvatore."_

"No more than I've missed you, Elena."

In the crowd behind, Damon spotted his brother waiting patiently to see him. His hands were in his pockets. His face was solemn, but he smiled when he saw him.

"You're not here to see me, are you?" Damon prodded. Stefan took a few steps closer and Damon pulled him into a brotherly hug.

"I wondered if they were ever going to let you come back," Stefan said as they embraced. Damon coughed.

"You and me both." He nodded when he stepped back. Elena immediately wrapped her arms around him, afraid to let him out of her sight.

"I have dinner waiting for us," Elena popped in, high on excitement. "It's your favorite."

"Meatloaf? Awesome, babe!" He kissed her cheek, but she wasn't smiling now.

"Meatloaf?" She racked her brain. It wasn't chicken enchiladas?

"Yeah, I love meatloaf. Remember?" No, she didn't remember. Damon was beaming while she was almost upset with herself.

"Uhm..well. I thought-" He grinned so wide she thought he might pull a muscle.

"Babe."

"..yeah?"

"I'm messing around. You know I love chicken enchiladas." Relief may have washed over her a little, but she didn't cut him any slack. She slapped a hand over his broad chest and then crossed her arms. Damn. His chest was like a wall.  
"Already, Damon? Come on. We haven't even left the airport." She stifled a smile, trying to be serious. He leaned over, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"It's only because I love you. You know that."

"So what's changed since I've been gone?" Damon stood at the colossal picture window where he gazed over the houses that lined the twisting road on which they lived. He'd missed this tiny town, miraculously enough. Driving through, it was almost surreal to be back again. He'd only dreamed of his return to Mystic Falls. That, and what he'd do once he got back home with her. In the kitchen, Elena sat two plates of chicken enchiladas on the table. /Meatloaf,/ she silently scoffed, but shook her head.

"Well, a few things." She held up a hand, preparing to count off the rousing events of Mystic Falls since Damon's last departure. The first finger sprung up.

"Remember the Grill?" Damon nodded, making a "pft" sound. "Well, it caught fire a couple months ago. Nothing left but a concrete slab." Damon's head spun to see her.

"No joke? That's a shame! Best damn whiskey sours in Virginia."

"Mhm. And you know Bonnie had her baby."

"Girl or boy? You never told me."

"Girl," Elena smiled a little wider. "She named her Sheila Marie." Damon grinned, leaving the window and drifting towards the table.

"That's awesome, babe."

"She asked us to be the godparents. I told her yes."

"What? When was this?"

"When she was born. Damon, she's precious." Elena was beaming with adoration. He couldn't help but love what it did to her.

"I need to meet her. Soon. Since I'm a godparent and all." He grinned, kissing Elena's cheek as he sat at the table. He scanned the plate, sending his jowls to watering. That hadn't happened since the last time he was here. She thought she couldn't, but the woman could cook.

"This looks amazing. More than that, actually."

"There's dessert, too." Damon started into his meal, cutting eyes at his love across the table as he took that first delectable bite.  
"You?" Instantly she flushed. She speared a piece of her own food, casting him a wicked smirk.

When Elena finished her plate, she stood, collecting any thing else that was ready to be cleaned. She felt eyes boring into her as she turned to the sink, but she continued her chore. She was glad to have the presence of another in the house with her again. Since January, the house wasn't home. It was four walls and a roof and nothing more. But now that he was back, it already felt like a completely different place. It was warmer. It didn't feel as empty. She had someone to share it with again. Countless nights she had spent, longing to simply hear his voice or feel that hot touch only Damon Salvatore had. Like he was reading her thoughts, two hands lightly rested on her hips and a mouth settled on the rise her collarbone. Leaving a tiny trail of kisses along the length, his nose skimmed her jaw, inhaled her scent. That glorious scruff on his cheek brushed against hers, sending a splendid thrill though her body.

"You don't know how much I've missed this."

"My horrible cooking?" She chuckled a little at herself as she laid a plate aside.

"You're kick-ass, babe. I haven't ate that much in..a while. It was delicious." She smiled at him, though he couldn't see. She set aside the newly-cleaned casserole dish.

"I'm glad you were on that plane this time," she whispered. "If you were gone one more second I don't think I could have handled it."

"You've been so strong. I'm proud of you."

"It's so hard. I just miss you so damn much, Damon." Elena brushed her face in irritation. Not at him, but at the fact that she wasn't completely relaxed. She was waiting on another letter, another phone call, anything that was going to steal him away from her another time. Even though that, if they did, that would be ages from now.

"I'm here. I'm home. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. I promise you that. It's done for now, angel," he lulled, gently taking her shoulders and turning her around to face him. "Over. No more deployments." No more deployments. Even he liked the sound of that. Damon's lips pressed into a thin line of hesitance as he glimpsed over her worry-laden face. He couldn't imagine what she went through. Not physically, but inside. She was already a worrier. That's why, when he could, he tried not to tell her when he went on the frontlines. Now she was worried he'd get dialed up again, shipped off to a desert to fight ruthless idiots with guns. But that was not likely to happen again. Ever.

"I'm here, now, with you, and I am /not/ going anywhere." He carefully cradled her face between his hands, making sure she was watching him as he spoke.

"I love you, Elena Gilbert."

_Christ, _that sounded good falling off his lips. A smile ran over her lips as she brushed them to his.

"I love you too." Those fragile little hands of hers began to work their way under his shirt as they fell into a deeper liplock. She began to outline the muscles of his abdomen in slow, taunting movements, drifting towards his navel and driving him crazy. God, he wanted her. And bad. To feel her would be the icing on this welcome home cake. No, wait! This wasn't where he was going with this. He'd spent the whole damn trip home pepping himself for this moment! He wasn't about to let it go to waste. Reluctantly he pulled away. Elena frowned when he didn't either kiss her again nor sweep her out of the kitchen. Fuck, she'd take it in the kitchen. That was just fine. /More than fine./

"What's wrong?" Damon was just as bothered as she, but he was weird. How, she couldn't quite put her finger on it. He gently squeezed her hips, licking his lips.

"Not a thing. It's perfect. Well, almost." He was smiling now, and she was completely lost. Why had he interrupted this again? She was a little impatient, but Elena played along.

"Almost? What's missing?" She saw his eyes fall, and it took a second for her to register that he was holding something up to her. He had that pensive smirk on his face, like he was laughing at himself. And he was, because he sucked at speeches and this was about to be the shittest one, despite all his efforts. He just knew it.

"Elena, I love you more than anything. You're my second half, baby." /Baby?/ What was this? He never said 'baby' unless it was serious. She suddenly felt the blood drain from her body. Oh my. "You've been with me every step of the way in this army thing. You're the most headstrong person I've ever met. You're the best thing God ever sent to pass my way. And I am /so/ lucky to have you." Elena watched as he sunk to the floor on bended knee, holding out to her the most beautiful golden band with a dazzling diamond cluster settled atop it. It glimmered like sunshine off a lake, and it held her, hypnotized. No prettier piece had she ever seen. Her heart froze in her chest when it registered. /This was it. Oh. My. God./ "Elena Marie Gilbert, will you do me the honor of being my wife?" Elena covered her face, feeling tears well. She couldn't breathe. It felt like she may explode with absolute excitement. She sobbed out a laugh, tingling with joy. And she thought she knew her love for him. /Oh how wrong she was./ Damon was waiting as patiently as he could, and she didn't know if she could get the one word out. Below her, he was doing his best not to shake out of his boots from nervousness.

"Yes!" she finally managed with a crack of her voice. "Oh my God, yes!" She instantly pulled him back to standing, greeting him with a long, heated kiss that was nothing short of one of the best she'd ever given him.

"I was going to wait," Damon said as he broke their kiss, blindly finding Elena's hand as he rolled that filigreed ring between his fingers. "But the more I thought about it, the bolder- and less patient – I got. Either I asked you now or I chickened out."

"Chickened out?" Elena's nerves had immediately been shot. Her hands trembled in the slightest as Damon slid it to rest on her fourth finger. The way it glistened...was this all real?

"Yes, Damon Salvatore has his weaknesses." He chuckled, caring none about anything else at the moment. He clamped his hand around hers, steadying it the best he was able. "It was like our first date, times a thousand." Elena snickered.

"I don't know what you thought you had to be worried about." He snorted.

"Worried about? You were the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. I was scared I was going to run you off." Elena let out a laugh, as if it were ridiculous, and kissed Damon lightly.

"Well you did something right. I'm still here." She finally took the chance to see what he'd given her. "Damon, it's absolutely gorgeous," she cooed, straightening herself up by swiping off those happy paths from her cheeks. He smiled, pleased that she was pleased. Especially since it was so important.

"It's Mom's," he began, brushing his nose for a second like he had to gather himself. "Stefan told me he thought it'd look pretty great on you. I have to agree."

"Oh my- Damon, this is..." Elena shook her head, lost in her own thoughts. Stefan was in on this? That dog. "I love you, Damon. So much."

"I love you." He kissed the fingertips she had raised, smiling at her. "You're making me the happiest man on Earth. You know that, right?"

Elena's alarm started to scream in her ears, startling her from her peaceful sleep. God, why? She stopped the noise and clambered from her bed. Her dream rang loudly in her mind, every detail there as if she lived it. And she did. Only months before. She looked to the ring mounted on her hand, right where Damon left it. She'd never take it off. Whatever became of this. She quickly made her bed and went to the closet to find her outfit for today. The house was empty, silent all but her movements. Another day. She shuddered, folding herself into her robe and trying to evade the chill that still somehow found itself into her house.


	2. Blank

_Three months earlier..._

Elena heard the sirens, but she didn't think anything of it. She was almost late to work. She didn't really have anything but on her mind. She skipped her morning cup of coffee, opting for the bland stuff that Sheriff Forbes supplied in the break room. The taste was a bonus, but the caffeine was the important part. Damon's keys, as always, sat right by her purse in a muddled heap. She rolled her eyes. He only did it to make her angry. She knew it. And he did it because he knew, no matter how busy she was, she would take the time to put them back up where they belonged. His subtle way of a teasing effort. Wordlessly, she hung them on the key hook next to the door and went out. "Later," she mumbled.

On the way to the station, she began her mental list of what was needed for supper. Bonnie was coming over for dinner with Jeremy at six and she hadn't so much as decided what they were having. Damon had /refused/ to let her think for herself last night, another thing he was on her list for. She shivered in glorious recall for several moments of those touches and steamy lip-locks until finally she had to make her mind take its own reins again.

"Dinner, Elena, dinner. Think. Damn," she hissed at herself, frozen was stranded behind a line of waiting cars. Up front she could see the emergency vehicles she had heard on her way out. Only their lights were going now. Elena could see a figure making on-coming traffic turn around in the parking lot of the old theatre and avoid the wreckage up ahead. Elena silently wondered if Tyler Lockwood had been out at it again, and this time really landed himself in a spot. He was always getting jailed for public drunk. He hadn't been the same since his mother's death six years ago. She doubted he ever would.

Elena's turn finally came to use the lot, but she was stopped instead.

Matt Donovan was the director. He wasn't an officer, just a civilian who was guiding the traffic. He was an old friend of Damon and Elena's, one of Tyler's buddies before his derail. Now he drifted towards them now, in attempt to keep himself out of trouble.

When he saw Elena, his eyes bugged out of his head. He didn't tell her to turn. He made her park.

"Lena, where have you been?" He sounded angry. A distressed angry.

"I'm running late. What is the matter, Matty?" she frowned. Matt shook his head sadly, his blue eyes glancing across the roof of her car to the scene in the background.

"Liz said she couldn't find you. The deputies are out looking-"

"What? What are you talking about, Matt? I'm fine." He really wasn't making any sense. Why would they be looking for her? She wasn't missing. Not unless leaving the lid off the sugar bowl was a new misdemeanor she was unaware of.

"Lena, it's Damon." Now she was confused.

"What do you mean?" Matt pulled Elena from her car.

"I mean, this is Damon." He pointed over her where a crew of police were documenting and tagging and writing things down like busy bees, never lifting their heads. "Mrs. Flowers—someone wasn't watching her enough. She found her car keys-" Elena's body suddenly went numb. Across the intersection, Mrs. Flowers' old gold Cadillac was in the middle of the city square, belly planted in the daisies Caroline's volunteer committee had just planted last Thursday. He always ran the square. Every morning. The ambulance was loading a gurney piled with a menagerie of detectors and monitors hooked to boxes.

"Is he dead?"

"I'll drive you to the hospital." He avoided her question. She started to ask again, but she had to sacrifice her voice to make herself walk. Finding her feet, she got back into the car, only on the opposite side. Her heart pounded in her chest. Was he dead? God, what if he was?

At the hospital, she was stuck in an empty waiting room with Matt and left to fear the worst. None of the nurses could tell her anything. She couldn't even see him. Elena couldn't stop herself from cursing each of the medical staff that trekked through the room as they awaited the ER doctor to emerge, whether they were on Damon's case or not. The next hours were like watching water boil, and it was beginning to send her into a point of breakdown. Matt stayed, trying to comfort her the best he could. Bless him, she was just too out of it to be reached. So instead, he kept two paper cups filled with coffee from the nurses' desk for them both.

Finally, the door opened and an older man came through. Elena had never seen him before. He wasn't a regular doctor in town. Elena and Matt were the only two people in the waiting room, so it was no question he was Damon's doctor.

"Miss Salvatore?" That stung. But she just nodded so he could continue. "Damon was hit pretty hard. He must have tried to jump out of the way, because he's not as injured as he should be. He has a severe concussion, several skin wounds that will have to be cleaned. But there's nothing broken. I do believe he'll be just fine." Relief flushed through Elena. He was okay. He was going to live. He wasn't dead.

"Can I see him? Please?" The doctor nodded his silver head, waving her ahead of him. She grabbed Matt's hand and almost ran down the hall. Matt, though, pulled her to back to calm her down.

"What is it?" she hissed, peeping through the cracked doors in search of her fiance.

"You need to prepare yourself, Elena. I know what the doctor said, but there was a lot of blood for there to be just 'a few wounds.'" She stopped then, paying strict attention to her friend. She hadn't seen the scene but from a distance. He watched it happen.

"You really think.." she said in a small voice. Matt nodded in agreement, squeezing her hand again. Reassurance. She shook her head. She just hoped he was wrong.

The last door on the hall was his. It was marked up for fall risks and close monitoring. Inside, a chorus of different machines monitored his vitals, injected him with medicine. They all had a flurry of chords channeling onto the surface of the bed, connected by white sticky pads to his skin or needles just under the edge of his flesh. He wasn't the same color. His skin was pale where it wasn't bandaged up with bloodstained wraps or ACE. The left side of his face was covered in a layer of gauze, unable to be seen. In his left hand, a tube of blood flowed back to a hanging bag on a silver caddy, dripping slowly. He wasn't awake. In fact, he was intubated. She trembled.

"Oh my god." It was all she knew to say. She ran a hand through his hair, the roots caked in dried blood.

"Elena?" The quiet voice nearly slung her out of her skin. She turned around to see Bonnie in the door, utter sadness on her face. "I'm so sorry." She instantly wrapped her arms around her best friend, squeezing her tightly.

"What's wrong with him, Bon?" Elena sobbed. "This isn't fine. That doctor lied." Bonnie shook her head.

"I know it doesn't look like it, but once he gets his meds and that blood bag, that's the beginning of it."

"Why is he on a breathing machine?"

"They induced a coma so he could rest and make sure his concussion doesn't cause any swelling, even though he was out when they got there. It might be a few days, but it's really looking good, E. I promise." Elena stared at the bruised man in the bed. One side of his face was covered in gauze. The other was swollen. His nose was broken. His eyes had already turned a sickly shade of black. Bonnie squeezed herself between her and the bed, squeezing her tightly, reassuring. It wasn't much, but coming from Bonnie it helped. It helped a lot. And if Bonnie said he was going to be okay, he really was.

Elena refused to leave the hospital. On Bonnie's next shift, she brought a bag filled with Elena's essentials, eventhough she promised her Damon would be okay for an hour. He was being monitored in every way possible. Camera, heart monitor, blood pressure, temperature, pain medicine. Nurses came and went every fifteen to thirty minutes. But she still refused to leave his side. Bonnie hadn't seen her best friend this way since Damon's first deployment. Elena didn't stay alone that night. Bonnie stayed up, brewing cup after cup of tea and helping her cope. Damon's first deployment was straight into the battlefield, and she was distraught with the idea he could die stepping off the plane. It was a harsh possibility Damon faced her with, and Bonnie wanted to slap him for doing it. But he was trying to help her. Somehow. When Bonnie set Elena's bag at the foot of the hospital bed, she was curled into the chair, watching the computer monitor mounted into the wall.

"When will a doctor be here, Bon?"

"I don't know. He's a soldier, and the healthcare system is so screwed right now."

"He's in a /coma/," Elena spat, giving Bonnie an almost evil look. "They should be here to check him!"

"Elena, I can't control them. They're doctors. When they know it's time to check on him, they will. It's only been a day."

"A day." Elena exhaled, unhappy in hearing that. She'd not slept in twenty four hours. It felt more like two weeks. She threaded her fingers into her hair. "I'm sorry. I'm just-"

"Worried. I know." She smiled sadly at her friend. "You spend your life worried." With a laugh, Elena said, "I know. But who would I be if I didn't?"

The doctor's report on Damon was what Bonnie had told Elena. He was okay, just sedated to reduce any possible swelling. The ventilator was for breathing, making sure his lungs didn't collapse since he was slung so forcefully beneath the car. It was possible they could remove it soon, though. He was on constant pain medication, so he wouldn't be in any discomfort while he was here, nor after he went home. Which came to they couldn't say when he would go home just yet. When he was okay to wake, get to walk, and eat. Basic everyday movements. But that could be days. Or weeks. The brain was a sensitive thing that couldn't be rushed into being well. It was its only healer.

A week passed. Damon remained the same, aside from his ability to breathe on his own now and his coma had downgraded. It was no longer induced. It was an actual coma. He probably would never have woken up after the crash anyways. His doctor had been by twice, only telling poor Elena what she already knew: He was asleep. He was the only one that could wake himself up. Until then, he would be monitored closely, and she would see the doctor return in a couple of days. And the process repeated. Stefan came everyday, offering to give Elena a break from sitting in the drab room with nothing but the sound of a heart monitor, but again she refused.

"He'll be okay, Elena. I promise. Between me and a team of twelve nurses alone on this hall, he'll be okay if you go for /just/ an hour."

"I want to be here when he wakes up." That was only ever her reply. So Stefan would sit, and talk with her to try take her mind away from Damon, even if he was just beside her. Sometimes it worked, but he was positive that most times it was the only thing she could think about. She still held the terrible possibility in her mind, despite what the doctors and nurses all told her. Damon had rubbed off on her.

Always looking for the worst.

"You have to wake up, Damon," he'd said to him one day while Elena had gone down the hall to the vending machine. He'd sprung on it, not having it in him to ask Elena to leave so he could. "If not for Elena, for me. I miss your ass."

Damon was all he had anymore. Losing him would tear him apart.

Elena unfurled herself from the second bed. The vinyl couch, after almost two solid weeks on it, she was at the point of no more. Stretching, she heard noises from the other side of the curtain. A nurse must have pulled it shut during the night. She slid it back, nearly losing her breath in the process.

"Good morning!" he turned the page of the hospital bulletin that was on the bedtable, looking rather interested in its contents. He always read the weirdest shit. She sprung across the room, elated to see him awake. She couldn't help it, and she didn't even think about his bruises or hurt parts. She took him into a hug, squeezing him to her. She was half in the bed with him.

"I was so scared you were gone." She felt his hands patting her back. She wanted to cry, but shock was damming it from happening.

"I'm just fine. You people just overreact." A smirk highlighted his mouth. Like it was nothing. God.

"I should slap you." He laughed.

"The sick guy? That's low."

"Do you know what happened?"

"I got ran over, would be my guess." There was a knock on the door, and Bonnie had a tray in her hands.

"I got you- Damon!" Her jaw fell open, and she all but dropped the food she carried.

"Bonster!" Damon grinned. "Long time no see."

"When did he wake up?" She thumped the tray onto the table and grabbed her pen, shining a light into his blue eyes as she raised each lid. She swatted her away, but she kept flittering over him and checking his vitals.

"I was up at a quarter to seven this morning, just like I always am. /Duh,/" he rolled his eyes, flipping the page of his bulletin. "I would have watched television but the remote is broken." He stabbed at the device on the table as if to emphasize his point. Bonnie shook her head, smiling almost as wide as Elena was.

"You are one tough son-of-a-bitch, Damon." She smiled at him, obviously pleased with what she heard. She checked the chart on his wall, signed off on something, then looked to Elena.

"If he can get up and walk and eat a full meal today, he can probably go home tomorrow. I mean, I'm not a doctor, I'm just six years of residency short, but I'm pretty positive that's what Dr. Tightass will tell you. I'll call, let him know Damon's awake." Elena smiled appreciatively and watched Bonnie leave. Immediately, she started opening the plates and bowls that were lidded on Damon's table. The plate held eggs, bacon, and a serving of hashbrowns. Each bowl had a serving of strawberries, yogurt, and pears, respectively, the third which Damon was allergic to. She threw those in the garbage. She unwrapped the toast, buttered it, and stuck a fork in Damon's hand. He looked at her, bewildered.

"Eat. I want you out of here."

"Bossypants, eh?" Damon spun the fork in his fingers and speared a strawberry out of the bowl and into his mouth.

"You've been here for nearly two weeks. You have to get out." She peeled back the label from two single-servings of grape jelly and set it in front of him.

"Yes, ma'am," Damon muttered, smearing the toast with it and taking a bite. It tasted like a damn piece of heaven, but that was probably from not having real food in ages. He resisted the urge to shovel it down his throat. Elena rolled her eyes, though she knew deep down that his snark was one quality about Damon she couldn't help but love. Now that Damon was awake, she felt a million tons lift off her shoulders. She wrote Stefan, and knew he'd be just as thrilled as she, if he didn't break his neck getting here first.

Just moments after Damon finished his breakfast, a bold but sweet-faced nurse swept into the room. She was armed with what appeared to be a berber-covered strap and one hell of a exuberant personality. She pulled away the tray, and introduced herself as Robin, the physical therapist. /Excellent/, Elena thought, but at the same time, she worried that they were moving too fast. Robin wrapped the piece around Damon's abdomen and grabbed the handle sewn into the back.

"Can you stand for me, Mr. Salvatore?" she asked, bracing herself to catch this man made of solid muscle. Even Elena went to aide her. But, to their surprise, he easily swung his feet from the bed and rose. His soreness, however, caught up with him as he tried to stand straight.

"For /fuck's/ sake," he hissed, and Elena bit her tongue in scolding him, knowing he had to be sore. A '75 Cadillac, two weeks in bed without moving. He /should/ feel like hell.

"What about we just /don't/ do this part, and tell doc we did?" he fought to toss Robin a cocky but flirty grin as he struggled with moving. "Get well gift?"

"Your get well gift is going home. Which you won't do if you don't walk." Robin was snippy, but she didn't completely mask the flattery she had on her face.

"Well since little Miss Bunhead here is so ready on me to leave, I guess I better." He flicked the bundle of hair Elena had tied to the crown of her head. She narrowed her eyes at him. Robin pulled on the strap.

"I'm not a dog. I'm coming," he bit. Robin ignored him and guided him out the room.

When he returned, the doctor was waiting.

"Well hello there. It's good to see you conscious for once."

"Good to be back, doc. Now, can we talk about leaving? I did all the things the pretty ladies told me to." The doctor, Elena finally learned, was a Dr. Eaves who was also completely temporary in Mystic Falls. He was set to leave this week. Damon would probably never see him again. Elena fumed at the thought, but bit her tongue. Bonnie was a better doctor anyways. She'd rather pay her.

"I just have to do a little evaluation first is all." Eaves found the clipboard and stuck a piece of paper into it he'd been holding. Elena missed that. He skimmed down it and cleared his throat.  
"Okay. First of all, I want you to state your name, where you are, and what day it is." Damon nodded.

"My name is Damon Salvatore. I'm in Mystic Falls General, and it's the fourteenth of May, 2014." He was off by two weeks, but it was good enough.

"Actually, it's June the third, but you're close enough. Alright." Eaves marked off something on the chart, then lazily pointed at Elena off to the side.

"Can you tell me who that person is over there?" Damon's eyes flicked to her, but he seemed off.

"Her?" Damon's brows were so wrinkled they began to look as one together. Elena bit her lip. She lifted her hand, waved, and gave him a smile. His expression didn't budge.

"She's a nurse here, right?" Elena rolled her eyes.

"Funny, Damon." The doctor didn't say anything. He simply watched.

"Who's being funny? I'm asking. I don't know who you are. You were just here when I woke up."

For the first time in his life, Elena could see that he wasn't joking around. Void of any sarcasm or cockiness. He wasn't kidding. He was really confused. Finally, Eaves piped in.

"You honestly can't tell me who this young lady is here beside me?" Damon thought for a moment, blue eyes drilling into Elena like it might spark something, but then he gave a slow, baffled shake of his head.

"No, sir. I honestly cannot."


	3. War

**_AN: Hello! I hope you're enjoying! I fail to put in author notes much. ._. But anyways, this is something I kind of sprung off the top of my head. It's my latest hang up in all of my fanfiction ideas, and I'm frankly in love with it. If you're here because you got an email saying that it's been updated and you try to find chapter 4 and there isn't one, it's because my dumb self went and posted my rough draft instead of the final. So this one is alot better than that funky one you read the other day. I'M SO SORRY. But, in better news, I'm working on my next chapter as we speak. :D REVIEWS! Thank you so much for your feedback. You all are so kind, and I hope to deliver this well to you. It's, again, my newest love, so I hope I can make it a good one for you too! I love hearing your comments, and love to know what you think! _**

They could come back. That's what Elena clung to: the doctor's diagnosis of temporary amnesia. It could come back in a few days, or weeks even. Or, worst case, he never remembered. Once they were home, Elena flew into rearranging the house. Damon hobbled. The same leg he was shot in during one of his deployments was injured again. Not horribly, but he was finding issues in walking on it without a support. He'd been given a cane to steady himself. He wasn't happy, but he didn't have a choice. A wheelchair was definitely out of the question. So, Elena fixed the house where he'd have no problem maneuvering where ever he need to go. She hadn't been home in two weeks. Dust was everywhere and Elena cringed. Damon didn't seem to notice, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"If you're hungry," she started, watching his every move as he inched towards the living room. "I can make you something." He inspected the house as he went, and Elena was confused until she remembered that, to him, this was a totally new place. They had bought it together, so he didn't know it anymore.

"No thanks," he said, looking at a photo of the two of them like they were foreign. She swallowed, finding a duster from the pantry. God this hurt worse than she thought it would.

"I've known you for how long?"

"F..Five years." Elena cleared her throat. "I met you at Bonnie's Christmas party. She introduced us. I kind of butted in on a conversation you two were having." She bounced on her toes. "But I don't regret it." She saw Damon smirk, and it made her feel a tiny bit better. He bumped a knuckle against one of the pictures.

"I'm not going to lie. I have good taste." She rolled her eyes, but went with it.  
"Damn right." He liked that. He peeped over his shoulder at her, throwing her that same smirk, just a little more implied. Elena finished the kitchen and moved towards the living room. He followed her, finding the chair that was his, and only his. Somethings were just natural. He tried sitting, and just like in the car, he let out a groan of pain. It shot down his leg, almost like a cramp every time he tried to bend it. Flying to his side, Elena helped to steady him. He was surprised, but he kept forgetting. This woman was his wife. Or something like that.

"That's okay. I'll just go shower anyways. Get the hospital off me." He shrugged Elena off as kindly as he could. She nodded. She'd change the bed meanwhile. It needed it, after the last escapade that had occurred in it. She was sure that this Damon wouldn't appreciate sleeping in it. Oddly. As Damon shuffled into the bathroom, she began to strip the sheets from the mattress. It only occupied her hands. Her head was still spinning with ideas and possibilities and horrible outcomes. She didn't know how she was going to handle this. The doctor had little prospect for his memory returning. He couldn't say what would happen. Damon may never remember. She felt like rubber at that thought. He may never remember her. He might never remember any part of the most important things in her life, those she had with him. Not their engagement, not his war-time. None of it. Every sheet she put back on the bed made another something come into her head, and before she knew it, the bed was made and her eyes were brimming with tears.

"Elena." She jumped, lost in her thoughts. Clearing her throat, she put the last pillow on the bed and peeled back the sheets on his side of the bed. "I'm coming!" she called, but as she turned, Damon was right behind her and she all but ran into him. She covered her face, recovering, and inhaled before she looked back up to him.

"What do you need, ba—Damon?" When he saw her, really saw her, he frowned. He caught one of the tears on her cheek before she knew they were there. He hated seeing them. Especially on her. That obviously meant something.

"Don't cry," he said softly, but Elena shook her head.

"I'm fine," she covered. She offered him a pair of pants from his drawer, as he was still clad in nothing but a towel. "Here. I'm getting my things together, and I'll be out of here in a minute." She began to gather dirty linens, wrapping them into a pile she could carry out the door. Damon watched her, confused more than he was already.

"Where are you going?"

"In the living room," she replied, immediately overflowing an empty hamper with the wad of materials in her arms as she dropped them in the laundry room. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"Why? It's your bed. If anything, I should sleep out there." Elena blinked. He was sick. Or aching. She wouldn't put him out on the couch for anything. He needed his rest, and she didn't want to disturb it. And despite loving him with everything she had, a slight discomfort came over her at the idea of sleeping in the same bed as him.  
"No, it's too hard, and you're sore," she frowned. "You can barely move. I'll be fine, I promise." She gave him a smile, but he didn't take it too well. "Promise." She said again. She found her night clothes and slid out the door. Damon watched her go. He wasn't happy. The idea of her on the couch outside just irritated him Probably because from what he could tell, that couch was a fluffy nightmare. Elena, though, was stubborn he could tell. So there would be no persuading her back. As he got a little comfortable in this damn big bed, is body began to feel like a blob of exhaustion. His meds, his soreness, his exercise with the PT nurse from hell all had him drained. Not to mention the damn thinking he was doing, trying to recall anything that might be lurking in his blacked-out brain. The more he did think about it, the more he realized how little he did know. He didn't know Elena, obviously. He knew Bonnie, from ages ago. High school. What was this year? 2014? Christ. What was the last thing he remembered? He dwelled on it, half awake and part of his mind on another tangent not even related to what was going on. 2009? 10? That was the year he finished college but was trying to find something else. Fuck being in college. Dad and his dreams. He could barely keep himself in order, much less learn shit in the process. He remembered meeting a guy about something. No, not a guy. A woman. The sheriff. Forbes. Did he go into the army? He had an urge to go find Elena and ask, but he was too far gone to care.

Outside, Elena wrapped herself in an afghan and tried to make herself comfortable. She'd never slept on this couch, and for a good reason. It was like a cloud, and she usually ended up sunk into the cushions. She was so tired, though, she barely cared. She could probably sleep on concrete at this point. Anything but another one of those hospital couches. Squeaky vinyl and dirty teal would forever haunt her dreams. Aimlessly she pressed the channel button on the remote control, finding nothing on the tube. A low rumble began somewhere above. The dreaded thunderstorm that had been the town's hot topic for several days now was making its arrival. Elena curled herself into the blanket. She hated storms. Some thunder she didn't mind, but loud claps made her absolutely tremble. She liked to thank her brother for that. Jerk and his antics. Closing her eyes, she opted out of any worrying and was hellbent on a deep sleep. Hopefully she could be out of it enough any noise would bypass her completely.

–

Fuck. What in the name of Satan was happening? Damon sat up, rubbed his face. He was sweating like he was in a sauna. And his head /hurt/. He mumbled something, but there was a ringing in his ears so loud he couldn't hear. He began to pull at them, but there was something in the way. The hell? He quickly tore off the hat –no, helmet– from his head. No wonder he was so hot. No, wait. He was hot because he was in a fucking desert. Damon sifted a pile of dirt through a gloved hand. Ruddy sand was all around him in endless dunes. Heat radiated in waves off of it. It felt like the sun was all but sitting on his shoulders. Armored shoulders, at that. He stood, a hundred or so pounds heavier, and he slowly began to hear. Rounds and rounds of bullets were being shot, but he just stood. Somewhere, he heard his name.

"Salvatore! Salvatore, GET. DOWN!" He turned, squinting against the brightness. Who the hell had said that? Then, it started again.

"Christ, Salvatore, are you an idiot? Get-"

In a second, he felt his body jump into action. He flew behind a dusty jeep emblazoned with "US ARMY" across the sides just as a slew of bullets buried themselves where he'd just been standing. Another body slammed into his, and he looked over to see the face of Carol Lockwood pressed against the vehicle with him.  
"What the hell was that?"

"I got knocked for a loop. Sorry about that." Damon was confused as hell, but he just watched himself continue to function like it was nothing. He took off the empty magazine on the gun in his hands and reloaded it in such speed it blew his own mind.

"Don't do it again. I don't have time to be trying to drag your ass back to base." Damon smirked.

"Alright, guardian angel. What's about I tear into these bastards and you cover me? I see one that I can take in a heartbeat." Carol nodded, trying to peep around the corner, but just a bit too afraid she might be seen.

"Let's do it. I'll stay here. Shoot any that go at you. Decoy. I was queen of that in high school." She laughed and reloaded her own gun. Damon took several breaths, set his finger on the trigger, and sprung to his feet.

Bullets flew into the ground somewhere close. He felt them eat the sand. He began to fire, and one of the rebels that had cited him as his main target fell into a heap. Rounds kept firing, and he kept looking. He couldn't see where they were hiding from him. "Fuckers," he cursed under his breath. He fired off a round in any direction, just in case a stray bullet decided to hit one of them. The gunfire stopped, miraculously. Damon stood, waiting. It was quiet, and anyone would think it was over. It would be safe to move on. But he wasn't. One could be hiding. Or more could be waiting. It was what he'd been trained to do: accept every possible downfall and act on it. Act as if it were happening, and prepare. He stood for a solid ten minutes before deciding to retreat.

"Lockwood." He spun around, ready to find her and progress. But as he did, a pain like nothing he'd ever experienced tore through his abdomen. He grabbed, hands slipping on bloodied canvas. He searched for Carol, where she was still hidden by the jeep. She readied her gun and stood. She fired of a handful of shots towards the west, where an enemy jeep had appeared. Damon watched as his attacker flew out of the sand and into the open back seat. Another round of shots, and it was Damon's turn to yell at Carol.

"Lockwood, forget it! Let's run!" But it was too late. One of the bullets missed her, but buried itself in the side of their jeep, right where the fuel tankard was. Damon watched as Carol's poised figure was outlined with flames, then eaten up in an orange-black cloud. His feet left the ground. He flew for what seemed like ever before he skidded across the sand.

His ears rung. He sat up and rubbed his face. His head was pounding. He was hot. So hot. But he was in a desert. Damon sifted a pile of dirt through a gloved hand. Ruddy sand was all around him in endless dunes. Heat radiated in waves off of it. It felt like the sun was all but sitting on his shoulders.

Elena tossed. She wasn't lucky enough to fall asleep. Not from the thunder, and especially not from her damn mind. She had been dwelling on what to do for Damon. Where to start in retelling everything about them. There was so much, and some she didn't want to revisit. She needed Bonnie's ever-wonderful advice, but she was at work at- she glanced at the clock- 345 in the morning. Now wasn't the time for her to call her with her freak out moment. Elena flipped on the light on the table and threw off the blanket. Tea was what would calm her. Some of that herb-y stuff Bonnie swore by. She'd made some up for Damon when he couldn't sleep. Elena felt like he wouldn't mind if she dipped into his stash. She found the canister and rounded off a healthy dose to steep and began the water to boil. The only other sound was the ticking clock of Guiseppe's as it neared the hour. Elena even dozed a little as she stood, but was instantly jolted awake from the yell that pierced the silence like cold ice. She hadn't heard those in months, but they were just as horrible now as they were the first time. Possibly worse. Her feet barely touched the wooden floors as she flew down the hall. As she cut on the light, Damon was in a mess of sheets and sweat. His blue eyes were wide, empty, and lost. He was terrified. She ran to him, trying to pull the sheets away.

"I'm hurt." He was clutching at his ribs, tearing at his shirt. Seams popped he was pulling so hard. Elena took his hands to make him stop.

"You're not, Damon. You're okay." She knew this dream. Almost like she dreamt it herself.

"No, I'm shot. Don't you see?" He had a sort of child-like fear in his voice laced with panic, and it made Elena choke.

"Damon, it's me. Elena. You were dreaming. You're at home. With me." She stroked his cheek. It was all she could do. Talk to him, try to bring him out of his absolute terror. It took him ages to really get back. Damon flexed his hands, trying to hold what she assumed to be the phantom of a gun. Instead she squeezed them, hoping it would help.

"Damon," she'd say, and she could see him coming back to reality in slow, dragging moments. Damon finally blinked, recognizing Elena sitting there. At first he was surprised, but then she could see he understood. Out of paranoia, he checked himself and found no gaping holes. He shook, a muddled mess of nightmares and incoherence.

"Jesus," he breathed."What the hell was that?"

"The PTSD," Elena spoke just as quietly, watching him. "From the war."

"The war." Damon swallowed. He was silent for a long time, pondering.

"I was going to tell you. I just...hadn't yet. I'm sorry, Damon." He shook his head, threading his fingers into his hair and pulling on it. It was all he felt he could do. He was in the war?

"I watched Carol Lockwood die just then." Elena's gaze fell to the bed and refused to meet his as she spoke.

"I know. It's the same one. You've had problems with it ever since it happened." Damon looked up to her with a sickened look on his face. That was real? Was he remembering?

"You mean I actually watched Carol Lockwood die?" Elena didn't lift her eyes to him. She didn't speak. She knew he was just as mortified now as he was when it first happened. Because in his mind, it was. But her silence answered his question, and he guiltily buried his head in his hands.

"Christ."

"I'm sorry, Damon. The meds must've stirred them up."

"It's not your fault, Elena. I'll be fine." He looked up to her, rubbing her thigh in some sort of reassuring way. The first of any contact she'd had with him. "Thank you for being here." Being here. She hated being here when he went though these. It tore her up to see the strongest person she knew defenseless to his own mind. But she wouldn't have it any other way. She gave a small smile in return.

"Were you asleep?" He started unwinding himself from the material on the bed.

"Sleep. Right," she coughed, promptly spreading it back across the mattress. He rose a brow at her.

"It's the couch. It sucks. I told you to sleep in here." Elena rolled her eyes.

"You're injured."

"So?" Elena wavered. Damon watched, suspicious and almost knowing. Fuck. Was he that good that even when he didn't know her, he knew her?

"You're not just worried about that, are you?" She looked away, pulling the covers back to where they belonged.

"I'm going to sl-"

"You're a liar." He caught her hand, making her stop. She sighed. He tugged. "Stay with me." She pursed her lips. Physically she was aching to lay down. Mentally, she wanted to leave. But she wanted a sense of normality. Damon was willing, and she was confused as hell. She finally let herself fall onto the mattress, tired in more than one way. Her body melted into a puddle at the feel of her own sleeping space. Damn couch.

"Now. Is that so bad?" Damon prodded as she found a pillow and curled up, silently promising never to betray her bed for another couch again.

"I might not remember you, but that doesn't mean I'll bite. Hard." He flashed her that grin, and she laughed a little.

"I just figured it might be imposing."  
"Imposing on what?"

"I won't lie. If I were in your shoes, I'd probably try and tell you you couldn't sleep in the bed."

"I'm not so objectioning." He chuckled. "But, you wouldn't win, either." Elena stared at the ceiling, feeling a tiny bit of steady for the first time in weeks. It was more or less just hearing Damon's voice that calmed her. He was here, not 100%, but in the 95% range, and he was cocky as ever. What more could she ask for?

"You know, Elena," he began after a silence, "I have this feeling that I'm insanely lucky that you're here for me." He turned his head to look at her. He expected to see those amazing eyes of hers, but instead they were shut, and she was long gone off in a restful sleep that she well deserved. The corners of his lips twisted slightly in a smug grin as he pulled the blankets across her.

"I win," he chuckled, and shut out the light for the second time that night.


	4. The Woman in the Den

A tantalizing mixture of smells drifted into the bedroom. Coffee, eggs, and bacon. It was amazing. The bed was empty, and Elena drug herself from its warm confines and drifted down the hall. The sun was shining through the sunroom where Damon had set the glass table for the two of them. Her favorite mug rolled with steam in the sunshine. He loomed over the stove, prodding a strip of bacon with a spatula. A towel was slung over his shoulder, and he leaned against the cane he hated but was reliant on so much. His hair was still a mess and he was dressed, as if he were going somewhere. At seven in the morning. Like for a run. As always.

"Morning, pretty lady." He plopped the bacon over onto a plate. Elena had to suppress her urge to wrap herself around him and give him a kiss to go with that greeting."Hungry?"

"Most definitely," she smiled back, picking up the plate only to have it taken away from her as soon as it reached her grip.

"Nuh-uh. Go sit. I've got this." Elena rose her hands in mock-surrender and did as he said, sitting down at the table where her mug sat. He hobbled behind her shortly after, plate in one hand and cane in another, to finish the spread. Fruit, bacon, eggs, grits, toast, and biscuits were neatly put on plates. More then she'd ever be able to eat. But that didn't keep her from wanting every bit of it. Her stomach did a growl in agreement.

"Damon, how long have you been awake?" she asked as she started filling her plate with a tiny bit of everything in her reach. Damon watched her, pleased.

"Oh..five. Thirty. Ish." He shrugged, helping himself to a biscuit and jelly. "I didn't really get much sleep after that...whatever it was..last night. So about sunrise, I got up."

"You should have woken me. I would have helped." She spoke behind her hand and around a mouth of toast. God this was good. Or she was just hungry.

"Never. You deserved your sleep. I wasn't going to wake you for raw eggs and sausage." His lip curled into a grin at her and she speared a chunk of her food, rolling her eyes.

"Mhm. Well, I do say you did a good job. It's delicious, babe." She picked up her coffee, eying it cautiously. Damon watched from the corner of his eye but continued to eat as if he weren't. She took a tentative sip, and was thrilled. Sweetened, just as she liked. She grinned at the man beside her.

"You did this?" she almost demanded out of excitement. Damon didn't act phased. He was solid.

"Is it right?" Blue eyes went from her to the cup. His escapade with the mug this morning had sent him on a tangent. He'd never seen it, but when he did he knew exactly what was supposed to go into it: two sugars and a drop of the vanilla in the spice cabinet. He'd never heard of that once. But, if his mind was going to offer something like that, he wasn't about to write it off as a random thought. Nothing that intricate was random.

"Yes! Damon, you remembered!" Elena was beaming, and Damon started to himself.

"Hot damn! I knew it was something!" Elena leaned over, happily hugging his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"What made you decide on that?" she mumbled as she pulled away. "That wasn't some experiment was it?"

"Well, in a way. I kind of heard it in my head and experimented with whether or not that was your coffee order." He grinned. "Guess not everything is gone."

"I knew it wasn't. This is so great, Damon." She started back into her food, but she was so aflutter she wasn't even hungry now.

"And about that," he started, biting at the bit with this. "I had an idea last night, while I was awake so long." She waited. "Why don't we go someplace?"

"Where would you like to go?"

"Where we met." Elena shot him a questioning glance.

"Bonnie's living room?"

"Okay. Maybe it was a bad idea." He laughed a little, scratching the back of his head. "I thought about trying to jog my memories. It happened with the cup. Maybe it'll happen with something else I know. Where did I propose to you?"

Elena smiled, a mouthful of toast, and pointed to the place by the stove with her fork. "Right there. With more nerves than any I'd ever seen."

"There? God, I suck at romance," he chuckled some, a hint of disappointment definitely in his voice. His girl quickly shook her head, forcing her food to go down so she could chime in.

"You /do not./ You can be romantic when you want. You just have to put a lot of thought into it before you do." Damon rose a brow. He sucked at romance. Like he said. He felt awkward with it, mainly because he found most of it to be cheesy. Did this chick find cheesy cute?

"When was I romantic?" Elena primly stacked her plate on top of his empty one, laying the two sets of silverware in the center of them. She had a look of thought, like she had to hunt and peck for something. He must have about one romantic event in this relationship. He didn't expect any less.

"After we started really going out, you blindfolded me for an entire hour. I was impatient and really was about to get testy with you it was so long. You kept telling me to just wait. It would be worth it. You drove me out of town and to an overlook right at sundown. I don't know how you got a table and chairs into the state park with a full dinner, but you did. It was amazing." Elena was glowing with the memory. He did that? This woman had had him around her little finger.

"And I proposed to you in the fucking kitchen. Christ." Damon laughed, rubbing his face.

"Rumor has it that evidently on the way back from your last tour, you had decided to. That's what you told me at least. And then you babbled about 'now or never' and a few other things. You were scared to death." She laughed a little, like she enjoyed the thought, and pushed a piece of egg around on her plate. She was lost in another time and another place.

"What do we do in our free time?" Damon twisted his coffee mug. Elena broke immediately out of her daydream to shoot him this priceless "did you really" look. He couldn't help but smirk. Smugly, at that.  
"Okay. Rephrase. What do we do that's acceptable in public during our free time?" Elena thought on it, trying to think of what all they had done the last time he was home from duty.

"When you didn't have me against a wall, we love to go out and hike in the Old Wood. There's this trail that goes along the outskirts of town. At the end is an abandoned mansion. It's beautiful. I never get tired of seeing it."

"You mean the old Veritas place? I've been there a hundred times." Elena nodded.

"That's the one. You showed it to me. I've lived here my whole life and I never knew it existed until you drug me out there one day."

"I don't see you as the hiker-type," he teased, making a frizzy curl that had fallen from the clip at the back of her hair bounce flaccidly. She narrowed her eyes at him until he was unsure that they were even open anymore.

"I may be pretty but I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty," she scoffed. Damon threw his hands up in surrender.

"I just said you looked like. I don't know that you aren't. You might even out-hike me."

"You're on a cane. I'm sure that a snail could out-hike you right now." She grinned teasingly at him, and he nodded to himself with a chuckle. This woman was sharp.

"Okay, okay. Let's not make fun of the cripple. Give me a week. I'll be kicking your ass on that trail." Elena sat up in her chair, like the thought of a challenge had caught her attention.

"We'll see."

"You bet." He smirked.

"Only if the doctor says you can," was her next sentence. He rolled his eyes. He hated the doctor. He was only in the hospital because he was in a coma. If he'd been conscious, he'd been gone way earlier than he was.

"Doctor, schmockter," he muttered.

"No, Doctor Eaves. He's really good, Damon."

"Don't kill my vibes, gorgeous."

"You're going back."  
"For what? I'm walking. I'm alive."

"And you also have three broken ribs and a lung that collapsed at one point. Oh, and that memory thing. Let's not leave that out." She sounded a little upset, but he didn't acknowledge it. He hated the doctor. He hated hospitals. He hated anything related to the possibility of being poked or jabbed with needles. But if he kept pressing he would piss her off. He'd just really started getting to get her. Or re-get her. Some parts of her he swore he knew, but others were like meeting her for the first time. Like he knew her in another lifetime. So he let out a breath and just nodded.

"Sure, Elena." He tapped a finger on his elbow, wondering about how much treading he could do in such testy waters. "We'll see." It was as close as he could get without starting up an argument. She huffed, knowing what he was doing, and started picking up plates in sets of twos until her arms were full.

"Are we going somewhere or something? I've got to get ready if so."

"Sure. The park? It's nice out. We should go." Elena gulped, remembering two weeks ago when she was last there.

"Back in a few." And she disappeared into the bedroom.

Damon could practically see her tense at the word he uttered. What was so bad? It was just a park. He got to his feet, feeling the soreness radiate not quite as far as it had the day before. It was just as painful, though. A few more days and he'd be able to chunk this old man stick. Thank god. He made his way into the bedroom, finding his closet. Elena was in the bathroom, steam beginning to fog the mirror over the sink. He pulled something from a hanger and threw it on. He hoped it was decent. He was too busy letting himself watch through the crack of the door as Elena readied for her shower. She was still swathed in a robe, flipping though a basket of things and picking out bottles to take with her into the shower. She was systematic, robotic in her movements but graceful. It was natural to her. She fluttered around the bathroom until she had everything she needed. Damon had intended to leave her be, but he couldn't tear himself away. Elena began to untie the sash about her waist. She slid it off a pair of exquisitely carved shoulders, letting it pool into a heap of turquoise at her feet. He already knew she was beautiful, but he couldn't help but appreciate the form in front of him. He admired the slight dimples on her back, the amazing curve of her hips. He crawled upwards as she slowly turned. When he finally met her gaze, he felt slightly obligated to apologize, but the knowing little grin on her face told him otherwise. She was okay with it. Probably used to it, knowing him.

Elena wasn't surprised to see Damon eyeing her. His /second/ favorite pastime. But he was still doing it, despite the fact he was relearning their relationship, and it made her feel wonderful. It made her hopeful. Damon's lips quirked a little, obviously happy about her discovery. His eyes continued to rake over her, and she laughed at his drooling.  
"Damon. Go get dressed." She unpinned her hair and rolled back the glass door of the shower. He didn't move, adoring the sight of the brown locks falling across her skin like waves.

"Damon."

"I'm dressed!" She rose a brow. He had successfully put on a shirt. That was it. He was still wearing what he worked out in.

"You are /not/ going out in public in a pair of those pants. Not with me anyways."

"I didn't say I was dressed /decently./" He remarked, wagging his brows at her. Was he kidding? She rolled her eyes and moved under the stream of hot water, cheekily cutting off his momentary eye candy.

Damon studied the sets of keys hanging along the hooks near the door. There were two, one just a fob, and another crowded with five different keychains and keys. Had to be hers. He picked them from the hook, hearing Elena flip off the light switches through the house.

"You're not driving," she sang, grabbing the pair he'd assumed his. He felt slightly disappointed at himself. What the hell did he have so many keys for?

"And why not?"

"Drugs."

"You say that like I'm a junkie." He chuckled, taking them from her hand. "Besides, I haven't even taken one today. I don't need it." Elena huffed.  
"Damon you're-"

"Alive and perfectly well," he took her keys from her. It was so lithe, Elena didn't have a chance to fight it. She sighed, throwing her hands up. Was there really any use in trying? "Now get in, hot stuff."

"Hot stuff? I haven't heard that one in a while." She got into the passenger's seat without reproval. Laying his wallet on his lap, she pointed a finger at him.  
"Wreck my car, I'll wreck you." Damon sat a moment, like he was considering her words.  
"Is that a promise or...?" Elena bit her lips, trying not to laugh.

"Oh my God. Just shut up and drive!" He began to chuckle while Elena's neck flushed red with bother. Nothing had affected that part of his mind. She shook her head to herself, looking out the window as they headed towards downtown.

"So, Elena. Can you tell me about the years of my life that I've misplaced?" Misplaced. That was a good word for it. She drummed fingers against her knees, trying to decide where to start, and how far to go. Some of it would just have to wait until later. On her part.

"Well," she began, "I met you Christmas 2007, like I told you. You'd just enlisted in the military. You were leaving for basic training a few days after. I thought I'd probably never see you again. They shipped you to Fort Benning and you stayed gone for nearly four months. We wrote back and forth. When you came home, you were here for three months, then shipped out. You came home again in February. Left again in August. That time you were gone for a year. August 1 to August 1. That was the worst time. Carol died. You were shot. I was scared to death you weren't going to get back home. But you did. This last time you left, they kept extending your deployment. I thought I was going to have to have a Come to Jesus meeting with the damn army. Your brother and I even went to the airport twice to pick you up. But finally you were there the second time." She smiled, but it was tired.

"How are you even still here?" Damon asked. He'd long since parked the car and killed it, listening to her recount of his life. "I wasn't even here for half our relationship."

"Because I loved you. I didn't need to go anywhere else." She said it like it was obvious. A no-brainer. "I still do." Damon gave his head a shake.

"What is it?"

"This place looks different," he said, skipping her question. She didn't seem to notice. She looked out the window, seemingly reluctant, but got out anyways. She stood off to the side, waiting for Damon to join her.

"Do I still run here?" The center of the square had been decorated with a fountain since he last recalled. He meandered towards it. A brass placard was mounted on the edge of the cement wall that read, "In loving memory of Carol Lockwood." Damon itched, seeing his nightmare all over again.

"Every morning." Elena folded her arms, following close to Damon as he investigated. The park was beautiful since the mayor had added the fountain. Caroline's landscaping plans had done nothing but good for it, too, with the bright summer wildflowers. They drew in butterflies like flies to honey. It beautified the city even more. Damon nudged Elena, pointing towards the ground near her feet.

"I used to be the jerk that did that." He smirked, kind of proud of himself. Mostly ashamed, but proud.

"Sheriff Forbes had me on his radar. He never could catch me driving through. Of course, now I can't. It's all fancy." With a chuckle, he kicked a little at the deep rut in the grass. Elena couldn't see anything but flashing blue lights and gurneys. Of course he didn't remember. She'd never forget.

"Damon, that wasn't from kids. That was from Mrs. Flowers."  
"She's still alive?" Right. The woman was nearing a hundred, but it didn't keep her from trying to do what everyone else did. She was a hellaciously stubborn old woman. Notoriously so.

"Yes, Damon. She's the one that ran you over. She can't see anymore. She doesn't even remember driving." Damon stared at Elena, then looked at the ruts in the ground. Thick brows knitted together. He was trying. He looked almost sad, but Elena couldn't be for total sure. Gosh how she hated to see him struggle.

"It's okay, Damon," she said quietly. She slid her hand into his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I don't even know what I don't remember, Elena," he sighed. The frustration was clear in his voice, but she could tell he was trying to keep his calm. "I can't remember weird parts. I know stuff happened, but I don't remember who was there. And sometimes I remember people and them doing something, but I have no fucking clue what's going on."

"I'm sorry, Damon. I wish I could help, but I don't know how."

"It's not your fault, Elena. I'm just confused as hell." He shook his head. "It's even worse because I can't remember /you/. I don't remember meeting you, your birthday, your fucking favorite color. I don't know any of it. I know I'm supposed to love you more than anything in the world, but I've just met you."

"I know, Damon. I..understand. It's okay," she reassured him, that last sentence stinging a little. /I'm supposed to.../ "You'll come around." Happy tones. Optimism. She should work on that anyways. "You've only been awake for a few days. Give it some time." Damon scratched at his temple almost angrily before finally agreeing with her.

"You're right. I'm just panicking, I guess."

"Don't panic. I think that's one of the things they teach you in military school." She gave him a smile despite how she felt. Uncomfortable and quite ready to leave this situation, she gently nudged him and edged him forward. She didn't like it here. She only saw the scene from two weeks ago instead of the gorgeous place where she spent so much time in the past. Before she could remember having her first beers at the bonfire, her first kiss and first date with Tyler Lockwood, and even the prom she went stag with with Bonnie and Caroline. Now she just saw icy stone pavement and skid marks. It was just too soon.

"Bonnie wrote me this morning," she started. "She's making this huge dinner. She wants everyone to come."

"Tonight?"

"If you want to, that is. And you are, considering she's making it in your honor." Damon rose a brow as they reached the car again, making the loop around the park complete.

"Mine? What did I do?" Elena folded her arms and cocked her head at him in a "don't ask dumb questions" way that he thought was kind of cute.

"You've been through a lot. And all of us happen to love you. Even my socially-hermited brother who doesn't like anyone. That should be enough reason as it is. Oh, and Stefan's going to be there. He's coming back in from his business trip." Damon's face screwed up in confusion.  
"Business trip?"

"Oh. Stefan started making his own whiskey, and he's trying to find someone to help him market it. It's better than any of that stuff you guys ever drank."

"His own /whiskey/? He's insane. That takes years."

"But he did it. He started working on it evidently in about 2000. Bon has some. I'm sure she'll let you try it." This time Elena got the keys and put herself into the driver's seat before Damon could protest. He grumbled, but he complied.

"How much has changed, 'Lena?" he asked, throwing his cumbersome cane as far into the back of the car as he could.

"Too much, Damon," she said quietly. "Too, too much."

Later that night, Elena and Damon had arrived at Bonnie's. Though Bon told her not to, Elena brought a dish anyways as a thank you for her help during Damon's coma. It was Bonnie's favorite dessert, Miranda's Grape and Walnut Salad. She didn't retort when she saw the dish in Elena's arms, and promptly hid it in the fridge. The house was full. Grams sat in the corner, holding Marie as she rocked in the fluffy recliner and chatted. Jeremy and Stefan were talking over a game playing on the television in the den. Damon started making his way there, anxious to find a seat and take some of the pain off his bum leg. As soon as he came into view, Mary jumped to her feet and flung her arms around her son.

"Damon! Oh my gosh, Damon, I'm so happy to see you!"

"Mom?"

"Yes, honey, it's me! Your brother picked me up in New York." Mary started investigating her child, noting the cane he leaned against. "How are you, dear?"

"I'm...okay. Kind of foggy still, so don't get testy with me, huh?" He smirked, kissing her cheek like he knew she was waiting for so much.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner. You know they don't just let us old people go all the time like we'd like." Damon narrowed his eyes at his mother, but she was already whisking towards the kitchen in that way she always did. She was so lofty. That would be the meds, Elena had told him. Giuseppe had died during Damon's second return home of an aneurysm. After Giuseppe's death, Mary started to decline. Her friends slowly began to die as well, and eventually Mary became a hermit inside the place where she lived with her husband. Her mind began to deteriorate as well. That idea killed Damon, but Elena quickly reminded him that Stefan and he had opted to put her in an assisted living center. She'd blossomed since then, but her mind wasn't quite the same. She was exhibiting some signs of dementia, according to the last call they had received. But his mother was happy in the Upstate New York place, so Damon and Stefan left her be.

"Brother!" Stefan was next, more than thrilled to see Damon. He quickly pulled him into an embrace, one so tight he almost questioned if this was Stefan Salvatore.

"I'm so-"

"Glad to see me? Are you sure?" Damon grinned.

"I really am. We were worried for a while." Damon twisted the cane in his grip.

"Sorry I gave you such a scare."

"As long as you're still alive, that's the important part," Stefan stepped to the side, offering the seat where he was a few moments ago to him. Usually Damon would wave it away, but the searing pain in his knee was past hurting. He gladly plopped down, letting out a sigh of relief as it immediately began to ease.

"How are you?" Damon cringed. Depends.

"I'm...okay. Sore. But I lost some of my memories." Stefan frowned.

"How much have you lost?"

"That depends on what you mean by lost. I remember pieces, but it's scattered. I don't remember Elena, the army." Damon itched the back of his neck. "Basically the entire past six or seven years."

"Damn, Damon. You know I'll help as much as I can. Just ask."

"Thank you, Stef. I appreciate that."

"I'm sorry I didn't see you sooner, Damon," Stefan began a little remorsefully. "I couldn't get out of my meeting."

"Yeah," Damon started a grin. "Elena told me you're trying to be a businessman now. I'm impressed little bro!" Stefan chuckled.

"Trying is the right word. I haven't had much luck. I think these last people might be my break, though." Stefan picked up an untouched glass from the coffeetable and offered it to him with a hopeful look.

"Try it. Tell me if you think it's worth anything." Damon took the glass and inhaled, a smoky woodish odor filling his nose. He liked that. He liked that a lot. Dosing himself a long sip, the sweet taste that came from it was easily one of the best he'd tasted in a very long while. It wasn't hard. It was smooth, inviting.

"I wouldn't turn down a second helping of that. Damon, brother. You're good." Stefan all but beamed with pride, though he'd heard Damon tell him that before. Damon was such a picky ass about his liquor. Validation from him was like a chef's validation from Gordon Ramsey.

"I think I might have got something going. I'm excited about this." Damon chuckled, setting down his empty glass back in its place on the table. About that time, Elena flew into the room.

"Grams, you know I love you, right?" She slid onto the ottoman in front of Sheila, who looked down at her as if she wanted her to beg.

"I do. And I love you as well, Elena," she said solemnly, not about to let her little sucking up spell get to her. Elena waited, suddenly a little frustrated when she realized her stubbornness.

"Grams, I want the baby. I haven't seen her in almost a week! Pretty please?" Sheila sighed, looking down at the bundle in her arms. Though it was reluctant she carefully handed her over. She'd held Marie all day. She might could use a break.

Across the room, Damon watched Elena's face light up as the tiny bundle was left in her arms. It was like seeing a whole other person emerge. To say it was amazing to him would be an understatement. Stefan chuckled.

"She loves that baby almost more than her parents do," he said as he finished his own glass off. "You know Bonnie made you two the godparents." That got Damon's attention. He turned, looking at him as if he had suddenly spouted off another language.

"Are you kidding? A kid?" Stefan nodded.

"Yeah I'm sure. She didn't name her Marie because she thought it was cute. Elena's middle name. Remember?"

"A puppy maybe, but a kid? Kids run from me," he snorted, looking from Elena to his brother again. Stefan rubbed his chin, suddenly feeling at a loss for words. He gathered the two glasses.

"I'm going to go see if there's anything to be done. I didn't bring anything. Least I can do," he said with his head down, then exited the room without another word. Damon continued to watch Elena. She spotted him and rose, bringing Marie with her and even holding out the tiny human for him to take.

"Wait wait, Elena. I can't hold...her. A baby. I can't."

"Yes, you can! You've held one before."

"Yeah, but I lost my memory. I don't remember how. Remember?" He was watching the bundle in Elena's arms like a hawk. A scared hawk. She rolled her eyes, pulling Damon's arms out enough to just cradle Marie. She set her down there gently as if she would break. Marie was weightless it seemed. She peered up at Damon with round dark eyes. Her skin was a milky shade of brown, one that matched her mother's. Marie studied Damon for a long moment, watching both him and the woman beside him.

"She's trying to remember you," Elena whispered in his ear as she looked on.

"Maybe she'll update me, then," he chuckled. Damon started to smile at her, and immediately she returned it. Elena laughed.

"See? You're not exactly inexperienced at this." She rolled her lips, biting back on saying anything else. Just then, Bonnie popped her head into the room.

"I have a table very full of food and the guest of honor is not even at it," she chided playfully. "Get in here, you two."

"Two? Not counting little bit here?" Damon picked up Marie's hand, waving it at Bonnie. She rolled her eyes. No wonder she was such good friends with Elena.

"Try again when you've got teeth, babes." She outstretched her arms, greeting Marie's smile with one of her own as she took her from Damon's arms. "I'll let her down and be in in a second." Elena almost pouted as Bonnie took Marie away, but not without kissing the chubby cheeks of hers first.

"Sit down, Damon! We can't eat if you're not here," Stefan jabbed playfully as he spread a cloth napkin across his lap.

"Come now, Stefan. Leave your brother alone," Mrs. Salvatore scolded, sitting so properly at her seat. Damon snickered like a victorious little boy at Stefan.  
"Yeah, Stef. Leave me alone. You heard her."

"And you," she pointed, "Aren't special. /Behave./" Jeremy snorted from the other end of the table as Stefan chuckled. Bonnie came back just in time to see all the commotion and took the seat beside her man. She gave a shake of her head at Elena, who just rolled her eyes with a laugh. Jeremy sat at the head of the table, and as he rose, Elena was instantly reminded of their long-gone father, how regal he was in that same spot for so many family dinners. It didn't help that, as he aged, he looked more and more like Greyson Gilbert.

"I wanted to say something," he started, looking in the direction of his sister and Damon. "I think I can speak for everyone when I say that I'm glad to see you on our soil again, Damon. This dinner was supposed to be...what? Three months ago, Bon? It's long overdue. You're starting to rival Iron Man over there. Three tours, now this accident." Everyone laughed at that, even Damon. "You've been through it, Damon, but I'm glad that you're still at this table. We all love you, bro." Damon's lips curled into a bashful smile.

"Well, whatever support I needed came from you guys, and especially this girl beside me," he said, running a hand along Elena's thigh. "I appreciate all of it. I love you guys, too."

"Now, let's eat. I've been smelling this all damn day," Jeremy laughed. They all filled their plates with green beans, squash, casseroles, and a ham Bonnie had cooked since the night before. She had been in the kitchen since nine that morning, every dish on the table from Grams' cookbook. Plates emptied and refilled. The desserts that sat on the bar remained untouched for a long while until someone broke out a stack of playing cards. Then, the boys started using Bonnie's cookies as playing chips, the white-chocolate snickerdoodles the most valuable on the table. Grams and Mary washed dishes, refusing to let the cook do such a thing after all the work she had put in. But, because Bonnie was as stubborn as she was a woman, she helped them anyways. That left Elena and Marie, who easily entertained one another. Marie was laid across the oversized leather ottoman, Elena playing with her feet and tickling them to make her squeal with laughter. Damon loved it. He watched from afar between pushing out a cookie or two to the pot and trying to keep tabs on his opponents.

"Now that's something I've seen before," he mumbled as Elena looked over to see him gazing at her. A smile on her face was pure happiness, and it was beautiful. Across the table, Stefan was trying to get his brother's attention.

"Damon!" He immediately turned back to the group, looking to the cards in his hands.

"Sorry. What?"

"Your turn, dreamboat," Jeremy smirked, biting into one of the cookies from his stack.

"Hey! Don't eat the money!" Stefan said. Damon threw out two more snickerdoodles.  
"I need to ask you guys something," he said, laying his cards down and ignoring the two's bickering. "I know it sounds really shitty, but I need you to tell me about Elena." Stefan and Jeremy exchanged glances, but didn't say a word.

"Where do you want to start, D?" Jeremy asked as he finished off a second cookie.

"Birthday, where she went to school. Elementary stuff."

"June 22. She went to Mystic Falls-"

"She couldn't have. I would've remembered."

"She did," Stefan nodded. "But if you'll recall your high school years, Damon, you were the biggest ass on campus." Jeremy nodded in agreement.

"Only the cheerleaders went after you. And that was because they were all sluts." Stefan chuckled, knowing that truth was strong.

"Okay, not here for a high school reunion," Damon grumbled.

"I'm not trying to be rude, but shouldn't you be asking her all this?" Stefan asked. Damon rubbed his face, honestly without an answer for that question. But perhaps he was right.

"I'll tell you one thing," Jeremy started, sounding slightly on the defense. This should be good. "I don't totally hold it against you, but I do sort of hate you for it. When you got deployed the first time to Iraq, you were practically set out on the frontlines. You got shot, but you never came home. She told me when you got home and you two were together, she found it. And from then on, between the secrets you kept from her, the way I saw you treat her, and the government keeping you so long...you changed, and she changed with you. She's not the same Elena anymore. I don't love her any less, but she's just not the same." Damon narrowed his eyes at Jeremy. How he treated her? What did he mean?

"Elaborate, Gilbert," he demanded. Stefan sat back in his chair, like this was a story to be told. Jeremy shifted in his own, letting out an exhale.

"Okay. When she met you, you were still dick Damon from Mystic Falls High. I don't know what in the hell possessed you to join the army. No one did. But right before you left, you met Elena. You two were inseparable the two weeks before you left. You were gone. Came back, everything was fine. When you came back from Iraq, you were totally different. It scared Elena. I think it scared you worse. She came to me, talking about how you said that you didn't know if you would make it back next time- crazy shit. I don't think you were as ready for the army as you though, D. I know Elena wasn't. Every time you leave, she stays over here more than anything. You scare the hell out of her, Damon. I know she doesn't know it, that it doesn't seem like it, but you do. She's constantly scared that you're not going to come back or you're going to have one of those night terrors she can't pull you out of. She's scared of losing anyone else. Can't say I blame her. Besides me, you're all Elena has left."

Damon quietly observed the woman he was slowly falling for, that he was constantly trying to decipher what he did and didn't know of her. She smiled that smile again. The one he was so familiar with, yet he knew nothing of. She was beautiful. More than any he'd laid eyes on in his life. She was magnificent, full of love, and such care. Jeremy's words had hit him like a truck. If this was her now, what was she like before? Had he done some irrevocable damage because of his selfish ways? Making her expect his death was nothing short of it. He wanted to kick himself. Who did that? Who forced a unwholesome state of mind like that onto a person. /He did./ So could he fix it? He had a taste of what he had endured for the three years he was away from American land. And if that was really what he went through, he wouldn't want to bless that woman with that sort of constant dread. He was deployed for how long? Three of the six years he had been with Elena? Had she stayed in that landlocked mood for all that time? He wished he could remember /so much,/ because he would be sure he would never treat her like that again.


	5. Jerks and Revelations

**AN: _Hey, guys! Thank you for the reviews and for reading! I'm so glad y'all like this so far! I've got so much in my mind for this story and others, I don't know what to do with myself! I don't want to disappoint, but this chapter is just a little short compared to my others. I was going to go on with it, but it just had to stand alone. I've got my next one on the burner, so don't get sad! :D So without further ado, ENJOY! _**

Elena's desk was a phenomenal mess. Things were in places she didn't remember and her emails were overflowing. Sheriff Forbes had inserted Caroline to pick up the slack to keep Elena's workload from overpowering her when she got back. Much to the Sheriff's dismay, it seemed like it might have doubled it instead. Caroline had neatly organized whatever flew onto her desk, but she had also put in some things that were not right and Elena groaned, knowing the work it would be to correct it. Despite that, she thanked Liz anyways, knowing she was only trying to be helpful.

"Elena!" A peppy, happy voice said from behind her, nearly scaring her out of her chair. Elena spun, seeing her temporary in the door with a vase of beautifully ragged sunflowers.

"Care!" Elena smiled, actually excited to see her other best friend for the first time in weeks. Caroline set the bouquet next to Elena's computer and wrapped her friend up in a hug, squeezing her tight.

"I thought these might brighten your day. I'm so glad to see you!"

"Awe. Thank you! And for the flowers for Damon too, Care. That was sweet of you. Where have you been?" Caroline nodded, and then pointed at the desk behind Elena.

"I know Mom was just being a mom and trying to help me out, but I don't think I'll ever forgive her for sticking me in your spot. It is so /hard/. I was up here 'til ten o'clock some nights!" Elena laughed a little, unintentionally.

"It takes a lot of practice. Patience."

"/That's/ my problem, then. How's things?"

"Okay. I'm sure everyone knows by now, but he's lost some of his memory. But it's looking up." Caroline's face fell a little.

"Really bad?" Elena shook her head, rubbing a palm against the heel of her elbow.

"He's remembered a little thing or two," she said, suddenly feeling a little /too/ optimistic. He'd remembered, what? Two things? But he'd been home for days. That was something, wasn't it? Caroline flashed a glance at her watch and tapped it.

"I've got to run. Mama's got a hot date," she grinned. Elena returned it, nudging her arm against Care's.

"Ooh. Who's the lucky guy?" Caroline kind of rolled her eyes, looking at the ceiling with some kind of indescribable look on her face.

"/Well,/ if I tell you, you can't take it bad or judge me or any of that." Elena folded her arms, waiting on Caroline's reply. But she just bounced on her toes, curls springing with her as she mustered up this confession to her friend.

"He's really not a bad guy, once you get to know him. He's really sweet, too-"

"Caroline, who is it?"

"Tyler." Elena blinked.

"Lockwood?" Caroline groaned and covered her face.

"You're judging me!"

"No no no, Care. I'm just...surprised. You thought he was a total jerk in high school."

"Yeah, well you thought the same thing about Damon and look at you now," she boldly pointed out. "Except Damon still has, like, 30% jerk left in him." Elena sighed, not wanting to go into this with her. Or anyone else for that matter.

"Caroline, don't."

"No, Elena. He's still a jerk. He hasn't changed. I know you two have been through alot, but he's still doing it." This was her rant, everytime they ran anywhere near this subject. Caroline thought Damon didn't treat her like she thought he should. Reality was, he did. She just never saw it.

"This accident has kind of changed him."

"That's what you said about the war, too," she said, somewhere between a retreat and a confrontational snip.

"No, Care. Seriously. He's...well, he's not quite as...shut off as he was. He doesn't have a reason to anymore. He doesn't remember." Caroline suddenly felt a little remorse for jumping her friend, knowing she was having a hard enough time as it was. She pursed her lips.  
"I'm sorry. I just- I've never liked him-"

"I know, Care. And you know I love you for looking out for me. But I /promise/ he's okay. I would've left by now if I thought otherwise." Caroline smiled, and Elena hugged her friend and thanked her for the flowers again.

"Tell me about this date. Text me, call me, something," she grinned.

"Oh yeah. I will," she nodded in response, hefting her purse up onto her shoulder and snuck around her friend, now /really/ running late. "Love you!" With a click-clacking of heels, Caroline almost ran out of the station.

Elena looked back at her workstation and sat. Her computer screen read out the hour as 12:15 pm, which meant she only had a few more hours until she could go. Though she really needed to stay and sort this all out, she wanted to be home with Damon. After the dinner at Bonnie's, he'd kind of withdrawn from her. He looked at her with what she almost thought was contrite, and it irritated the hell out of her. He was so happy a few days ago. What had happened? She racked her brain, but she came up to a loss. She wanted to help him somehow but when wouldn't talk to her she was left to do nothing. Waving her away seemed to be his best skill at the moment. Already she had decided that irritating him until he spoke would be her strategy. It always worked before. She found her phone and typed out a message to him.

/Everything okay?/

/Peachy keen, gorgeous,/ he replied almost immediately. Pet names. She missed those, and the past few days he'd starting using them again. It made her smile for once.

/Making dinner/" he sent a few moments later.

/What's on the menu, chef?/

/Surprise. ;)/ Of course it is. And he used the winky face. He was peppy compared to his past days. She was at her wits end with his mopey-ness. Talking to him had been like pulling teeth. He was almost pensive. God knew why. But now this? He was becoming a roller-coaster.

Hours passed, slowly but surely. Elena had became unable to procrastinate any longer after her small chat with Damon and did her dreaded work. Although some of what Caroline had done would have to be restarted, she was majoritively done. Proudly so. Elena waved at the chief with keys in hand and bolted out the door.

She entered the house, a familiar aroma greeting her. While the kitchen was bright, it was the only thing in the house lit. Damon was nowhere in sight and the place was so silent, a pin could be heard dropping to the floor. The dining room was lit by nothing but a group of candles in the center of the table. Flames flickered off the glasses and Elena awed over it. She heard footsteps come down the hall, but she didn't look to greet Damon. She was too excited.

"What is this?" Elena swept another gaze over the dimmed room, the clothed table, the set dishes. Was that wine? She grinned ear to ear, Damon ushering her to her seat.

"You're home early. It's not quite done," he said as he pushed the chair beneath her. "But I think you'll like it. I know I do."

"What is it?"

"Only the best dinner ever." A knowing grin planted itself on Elena's lips, but she waited to see if her assumptions were right. The oven popped closed and a few moments later, her answer sat in front of her.

"Chicken enchiladas." She watched as Damon served her a helping of the steaming dish.

"They're my absolute favorite," he grinned, now serving himself. He was in a whole new demeanor, completely different from the funk he'd been stuck in for days. She didn't question it right now. She enjoyed it too much. Elena nodded, having made the dish before her so many times for him she knew the recipe by heart.

"I make them every time you come home. And, I made them the night you proposed." Damon chuckled.

"My favorite food and girl in the same night." They both laughed. She felt a little thrill at that, but she didn't push it.

"What's with all the dressed up? Tablecloths, candles, wine." She raked the tines of her fork over her food but watched the man across from her. He refilled her wine and rolled his shoulders.

"You've had a rough few weeks. You deserve it. Especially for putting up with me." She chuckled a little.

"We both have. /You/ were the one in the hospital bed. Remember?"

"Mm. I got some pretty great sleep."

"Stop," she laughed. "You aren't even /remotely/ funny." He wagged his brows at her.

"You seem to get a kick out of it," he pointed out with a simper. Elena just shut her mouth, not going to egg it on anymore. Damon, on the other hand, was enjoying how much effort she was putting forth just to prove him wrong. And that made her that type of angry/not angry that she only could get at him. She huffed a little to herself, cutting another piece of her meal off with the side of her fork. As she took a bite, she could see the smirk on his face out the corner of her eye.

"Can I say something, Elena?" Her heart did a tiny flip. His voice had changed. She abandoned her meal to look to him.

"The other night at Bonnie's, I talked to Jeremy and Stefan. I asked them about you."

"What do you mean you asked them about me?"

"Let me finish, baby," he said. Christ. /Baby./ His serious word. She shook internally, happy to hear something like that, but remained silent so he would go on. "I want to apologize for being so...shut off from you for the past couple days. I don't mean to, but I had my reasons." He dropped his napkin into his plate, pushing it away and inching a little towards her. "At Bonnie's the other night, when you were with Marie, I don't think I saw anything so beautiful in my life." Elena laughed quietly.  
"Marie is gorgeous, isn't she?" Damon shook his head with a laugh.

"Not Marie. /You./ You were so purely happy I couldn't hardly keep my eyes off of you." Elena felt a heat crawl across her skin at his compliment. First time, hundredth: his words always made her blush. "I've learned about you all over again the past weeks. You've helped me in every way possible. You've sat by my side endlessly. I can't thank you enough for putting up with me." He watched her and she watched him. Damon cautiously rose a hand and caressed her cheek, as if she might run. Much to his pleasure, she fell into it, missing those soft touches. When she opened her eyes, his were on her again, warm and vulnerable only for her, and lost on some level she couldn't quite reach. She covered his hand with hers and squeezed it gently as she pressed lips to his palm.

"I love you, Elena Gilbert," he spoke. It was soft and low, but it was as good as a yell. Almost a month since she'd heard those words. They ran through her like a jolt. Exhilarated her. This was everything she needed to hear. To know he was in love and that he was still hers. She was stunned for a second, but she closed what space was between them. Lips met and at that moment, she felt the happiest she had in ages. That passion only Damon Salvatore had began to show as he returned her kiss.

"I love you," she breathed. Not that she had to tell him. She'd said it a hundred times to him in the past weeks, and she was always greeted with some tiny, remorseful smile. Not now. His hands had long left their cradling on her cheeks and were on her waist, pulling her up from the table with him. She felt his lips twitch and before she could question it, he'd scooped her off the floor. She let out a squeal of delight, kissing the side of his neck as he started down the hall.

"I love it when you do that," she whispered beside his ear as he let her fall onto the bed. She sat up, and his lips found hers again as he crawled over her. His heated kiss powered a flame through her. No kiss like that in the world existed but here. Damon slowly started down the column of her neck. She could feel as he undid each button that kept her skin separated from his. Those agile fingers hadn't forgotten how to work, and soon they had meandered down her body, gracing places that drove her crazy with desire. It was like he knew, and right now she wouldn't be objected to saying he was lying about his memory. /The proximity/. She grabbed at his shirt, wanting to pull him back to her, but he lithely slid right out, continuing to carefully pepper her abdomen in feather-soft kisses.

"Some things like to sit in the back of my bruised mind," he mumbled against her as if he were reading her mind. She let out a breathy, hitched laugh.

"What else is sitting back there that I should know about?" she teased. And for a moment she was absolutely happy. It wasn't the sex. It was the righteousness of it, of him, and complete and total normality. He still loved her. The thing she dreaded for weeks after his injury had been eradicated with three simple words. Her fear was over nothing. He still knew her like the back of his hand. He still loved her like nothing else. He just didn't know who she was.


	6. Veritas

Trees rustled in the breeze, the sun definitely not coming out today. It was forecast to rain, but that didn't hold them back. Well, didn't hold /Damon/ back. He'd drug Elena out to the edge of the Old Wood. She'd begged him to wait, but he- per usual –wouldn't listen. He wanted to go. He'd had cabin fever all week, being home alone. The doctor had okayed him for cautious exercise, but to Damon that was just as down-putting as none at all. He'd been without a work-out for weeks and he was past the point of missing it. He /needed/ it.

"Damon, it's going to /rain/. We'll get soaked."

"So? Free shower. Don't complain," he smirked, throwing his cane into the bed of his truck as he went around to meet Elena. She stood, arms crossed, looking rather unimpressed. "You're supposed to outhike me, remember?" She almost cackled at that.

"Don't think that's going to work with me, babe. I know better."

"What?" he asked, trying to look innocent.

"'What?' You trying to make me get all competitive. You know I am." She shifted from foot to foot, rolling her eyes. "I'm not going to race a cripple. It's unfair to kick one's ass when they're at a disadvantage."

"Ooo-kay," he laughed, tossing her the water bottle that sat in the cup holder of the door. "I'll save it for another day. But we're still going." Elena let out a heavy sigh.

"Damon, you /just/ lost your cane. Can we not wait another week?"

"Elena, if I wait another week my brain is going to turn to mush from being in that house. No, we cannot wait." She huffed again, and he pecked her on the cheek.

"Come on, gorgeous. Burning daylight." He started down the trail, a limp still in his gait. Elena followed, mumbling "stubborn ass" under her breath.

They trekked down the path that was slowly becoming overgrown. Few people hiked here like they used to. Across town, the city had made a new one that went through town, biker friendly. Damon hated it. He always came here instead. He reached out, taking Elena's hand as she reached a step up onto the cliff of the wood-line. She hardly had to make an effort. A few drops landed on her bare shoulders and she flicked them at Damon.

"Hey, 'Lena."

"Mmm?" She wove past a briar thicket, a few feet behind him.

"Here's a question for you: When are we getting married?" She nearly tripped on a stick, completely not expecting such a question from him.

"I'm sorry?" she begged, looking to where Damon was- a good twenty feet ahead. He was going to outhike her crippled.

"You heard me. When are we getting married? You can't tell me we haven't set a date yet." Damon turned to see her, offering a hand as they scaled another washed-away hill.

"Well," Elena started, getting her footing on the ground beside him. "We...kind of didn't. Yet. You suggested eloping, and I wanted something small. Just us, your family, Bonnie and Jeremy and Caroline. But we just haven't gotten to it."

"Think about it," he shrugged, but he hadn't let her hand go. He pulled her with him through a thinning bunch of trees, leaving the sound of crunching dead leaves and twigs in their wake. She was dumbfounded and she really didn't know why. Maybe because she just assumed this was like starting over when it wasn't. He was doing the same thing she wanted to. He was moving forward.

"I have," she piped up as they stopped at the foundation of old Veritas. It wasn't completely gone, but going inside wasn't the smartest thing. It looked that a good wind could knock it down, but none of the thunderstorms they had ever seemed to be enough to wash it away. Elena cleared her throat, looking up to Damon. "I did think about it. I don't want anything huge. Just the people we love."

"No fancy catering, frilly dress, all that?" He smirked as he sat on the brick porch steps. Elena laughed.

"No, I don't need any of that. I just need you." She joined him, leaning her head on his shoulder as she got comfortable. "And I don't do frilly." Damon chuckled.

"So when is this happening?" Elena rolled her shoulders.

"I don't really know. When do you want to?"

"Two weeks?" Elena's eyes almost bugged out of her head. Was he insane?

/"Two weeks?/ Damon, it's a wedding, not a night out. Try later."

"What about the second weekend in September?" He rose his hands as if to challenge her, but was being playful. "It's so random, no one could be busy then." He felt Elena tense on his arm, falling deathly silent. He nudged her, but she just shook her head.

"Not in September. Just...wait." He frowned.

"Why not September?"

"Just /not./ I hate that month." Elena swallowed thickly and rose from her place beside him. She forced a smile, pecked his cheek, and pulled on his hand. Rain was beginning to pour in buckets, and she wanted to go back to the truck. Damon eyed her, seeing her change in demeanor.

"Come on. I need to start dinner." He did as she asked, but again didn't let her go. He studied her a second. Those brown eyes refused to meet his gaze. Elena led him back through a different thicket of forest, completely silent the whole time. Rain pelted them, and by the time they got back into Damon's vehicle, there wasn't an inch of them that wasn't drenched. Even then she didn't speak, and Damon was confused as hell.

"Are you okay, babe?" Elena snapped her attention to him and nodded.

"Oh. Yeah," she smiled, but it didn't go any further than her lips. "What did you want for dinner?" She was trying to change the subject. Fuck. He wasn't about to push her, as much as he wanted to. There was something she wasn't telling him. He stared at the road ahead of them, watching for the turn to where they lived now.

"Whatever is good with me. I'll even eat leftovers. You don't have to cook." Elena frowned some.

"Are you sure? You hate left-"

"Elena, it's not going to kill me," he chuckled. She smiled for real this time. Damon shut off the engine as he parked in the drive.

"I love you, but thank God. I'm freezing." She jumped from the cab of the truck and beelined for the door. Inside, she began picking off layer by layer of wet clothes, dropping them into the washer. She was already cold-natured. This didn't help at all. Just as she wrapped herself in her robe from the menagerie of clothes drying on hangers nearby, Damon stepped in. He looked broody, his eyes focused so intently on her she actually stopped.

"What?"

"Did I say something to upset you back there?" Elena tied the sash on her robe.

"God, Damon, could you drop it?" she almost bit, throwing a dose of laundry soap in the barrel. "It's just a thing I have."

"You /hate/ September. There has to be a reason." He chucked his shirt in the washer, flinging water across the wall behind it. Elena let out a harsh breath, glaring at it.

"Just...I'll tell when I'm ready," she spoke calmly as she could, irritated that he was still harping on this.

"Ele-"

"/When. I'm ready,"/ she repeated, even going so far to throw him a look of pleading as she shut the washer lid. "Please." He studied her for a long moment before nodding. She stretched up on her toes, planting a kiss on his chin.

"Go sit down, babe. I'll bring your plate to you." He smiled slightly at her. It still bothered him that she wouldn't say what was bothering her. She trusted him, didn't she? She knew she could tell him whatever it was. He watched as she went down the hallway and into the kitchen, and he heard as she started rattling pots and pans in the cabinets. It wouldn't bother him so much if he didn't think she was hiding something from him. Those pretty eyes of hers barely would look at him, and when they did there was something there. Sadness. Guilt. He couldn't quite tell, but it was driving him crazy. But Elena would tell him. Just like she said.


	7. The Secret About September

**AN: Thank you for all your reviews. I'm so honored you're all reading my work. :) This is a chapter I've had written for months, and I'm so excited that I can FINALLY post it. I know my last chapter was short, and it seems kind of like a space filler, but I made it worth it. I promise.**

That damned old clock hung on the wall, ticking constantly. It was driving Damon crazy. There was nothing on the television. Thanks to Elena, the house was clean, the bed made, and the dishes put away. He thought about going into town, seeing what trouble he could get into there, but it already close to five. Elena would be home soon. She'd called him and told him not to cook. She had planned a night for them. So there went making dinner off his non-existent to-do list, too.

Damon began to rifle through the drawers to occupy himself. They were filled with a menagerie of tools, flashlights, candles, and just random crap. Obviously a bit of his doings. There had been two he'd discovered since he came home, garnering a sigh from Elena each time she caught him opening it. He'd learned since the accident that if Elena was anything, she was neat. She put everything in a place. It was like a thing with her. It kind of drove him up the wall, but he wasn't going to complain. In lieu of just rummaging through the junk, he pulled it from the cabinet. He balanced himself on his not-so-bum leg and hobbled to the table, dumping it across the cloth that covered it. Twice as much as what looked like was in it came out of it. Damon ran his hands over it, finding screwdrivers of every size, tiny hammers, nails, even a glue gun. The small pieces were set to the side to be put into a bag or something later. There was bound to be somewhere all this belonged. Not this drawer. It was bending the damn track it was so heavy. A piece of paper began to show itself as he whittled the pile down to bare basics. A flashlight, candles for the power outage that happened /all the time/ in Mystic Falls, and the glue gun- for whatever it was for. Damon narrowed his eyes at the tiny piece of paper. It wasn't anything but black and white. It didn't even make a picture, if that's what it was supposed to be. He studied it for a while, trying to decide what it was. He tossed it aside to a trash pile and began to reassemble the drawer when he saw Elena's name printed in white in the corner.

_Elena Gilbert_

_12/14/10_

A sonogram? Of a baby? They have a baby? Damon brushed a thumb over the picture, some sort of excitement and pure fear blazing through his veins. A kid. It was right there, barely taking shape. But it was a kid. He didn't quite know what to think. He started putting the rest of his mess back up, mind slightly whirling. Really turning. He was confused. Why didn't Elena tell him? It was a baby. Their baby. Was she trying to hide it? As if on cue, the sound of garage doors groaned throughout the house. Damon remounted the drawer, but he wasn't quick enough to get rid of his mess. A huff of slight disgust came from the foyer, and it was evident that he wasn't going to be getting away with this one.  
"What happened?" Elena scanned the table as she entered the dining room, eyes critical as if a murder had just taken place on her kitchen table.

"I got bored, so I cleaned out a drawer," Damon said solemnly, tapping a finger against the miniscule portrait in his hand. He didn't look at her. He was still thinking.

"Well, I have dinner from the Thai place you love so much." Elena lingered at the table a second, eyes flitting to Damon's turned back as she went back into the kitchen. "They reopened today. Mrs. Naydarl sent her well wishes." The irritant squeak of Styrofoam reached his ears as Elena prepared a plate for him, but for the first time, it didn't bother him.

"Elena." The squeaking stopped, but the clanking of dishes took its place. She was busy. He needed her to not be busy. Within a moment's time, she was setting the loaded dish at the uncluttered end of the table, pulling at the tablecloth to make more room. Elena rose a brow, sensing his odd demeanor when she noticed he was still so quiet. That wasn't like him.

"What's wrong? Did I order the wrong thing again?" She started to investigate the plate, thinking she ordered that dish with the bean sprouts by mistake. It wouldn't be the first, and definitely not the last. But they always ate it. Damon pursed his lips in deep thought, then calmly flipped the paper up so she could see it. A icy silence flew through the room, the clock the only one who dared to speak. Damon waited, thinking she would explain, but she was so quiet it was as if he were alone. Elena's eyes were already glassy by the time he saw her. She didn't want to see it. It made her absolutely sick to think about it. Still.

"Please put that away, Damon."

"/Put it away?/" he rose a brow.

"Yes, Damon. /Away./"

"Elena, you're supposed to be helping me remember things, not covering them up."

"I—I wasn't- didn't -think you needed to-" she swallowed, her happy mood now completely vanished and her brown eyes glued to the paper in his grip. "I didn't want to yet."

"So you're pregnant?" Elena blinked as she finally looked to the man standing in the room with her. If she was upset before, she was absolutely sad now. Damon narrowed his eyes at his wife, trying to understand what was the problem. Just tell him. That's all he wanted.

"No. I'm not pregnant." She reached over and carefully plucked the picture from him, calm, as not to make this situation explode. She didn't look at it. Couldn't. She slid it underneath a fruit bowl on the counter, as if that made the whole situation go away. "Are you going to eat?"

"What happened, then?" he pried. He wanted know, and she wasn't about to try to wave this away on him. He reached over, catching her wrist just as she turned to go back into the kitchen.

"Damon, don't. Not right now."

"Then when? Tell me, Elena. I need to know." She sniffed, blinking those round eyes twice as often, trying not to cry. God, she thought about her every day. She wished more than anything to see her again. But she couldn't, so she just tried to forget. But she needed to tell him.

"That's from three years ago, Damon," Elena swallowed, trying so hard to look Damon in the eye, but failing because the memories all but tore her to shreds. She hated them more than anything, and savored them all the same.

"Her name is Mary Jo, and she's our daughter."

Damon stared, unblinking.

"Mary Jo."

"Yeah," Elena nodded, smiling just a little. She really didn't want to talk about her. Thoughts everyday of how she wasn't here were bad enough. Damon was right, though. He needed to know. It just nearly killed her to. Picking up his hand, she gently squeezed it as if that was going to wake him out of his stupor.

"Tell me about her." He pushed the plate of rice from his spot on the table, hunger forgotten, and pulled the chair out, gesturing her to sit with him. She obliged, though the room felt like a leaf withering with her inside. She didn't know if she could. If so, she'd just sob the entire time. She found her phone in the confines of her back pocket and scrolled to the camera album specifically marked "Mary Jo." It was the best way to start this. For her at least. She silently laid the screen in Damon's hands. She looked at them all the time. The feel of her in her arms still hung with her like some torturous reminder. Her cry.

"She was so tiny," she began in a whisper. She touched Damon's hand, remembering how perfectly she fit there. Like two puzzle pieces. "You held her more than anyone. She loved you so much already. She saw you and would /smile/ so big." Elena choked a little, watching as Damon slowly flipped through the first photos of the reel. He was waiting on her to continue. She was waiting on her stability to rebuild so she could.

"She was sassy," she laughed lightly. "She only liked to be held over my shoulder. She would cry if I didn't. She hated things on her feet." Elena brushed her hands over her face and through her hair as she cleared her throat. "And she had this /one/ sound she made when she wanted you. Only you. No one else."

"So she liked me." Damon chuckled. Kids had never been his forte. They always gave him weird looks and ran the other way.

"Liked you? Loved you. Daddy's girl before she even left the hospital." She smiled at the thought, then began to play with her hands, eyes dropping to the table.

"So where is she?" Damon looked over to Elena, some sort of happiness there that she remembered from what seemed like a hundred years ago. /This was where you talk,/ she reminded herself, but her throat swelled. She took a breath, and instantly Damon knew.

"She was four months old, I put her in her bassinet for a nap." Elena brushed her cheeks, feeling the heat in them rise. "She was in the living room, and I was in the kitchen, cooking. I even made soup on the stove so it wouldn't be loud and wake her because she was such a light sleeper. I went back to get her for her supper, and she...she just...wasn't breathing." Elena covered her face, almost in shame. The memory was just as horrible as if it happened all over again. "She was right there, /in the next room/. It was /barely/ an hour-" Damon looked up to her just as she fell into a wave of crying. Arms folded around her, pulling her into his direction. Burying her face in his shoulder, she felt a level of comfort. Something that she'd not had in a while. But she had to tell him about his daughter's own death all over again, and that almost tore it all back down.

"Shh," he whispered in her ear. He couldn't help but feel the same. Those pictures were unlike anything he'd ever seen. The most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He held her. He loved her. He knew it.

"I miss her so much, Damon," Elena inhaled. "I'm sorry." Damon frowned and gave a shake of his head.  
"It's not your fault, babe," he whispered against her cheek. Damon watched the screen, illuminated with a picture of her and Mary Jo. Elena looked like another person. A glow about her that that child brought out. He believed she was perfect. She was beautiful. And at four months, it was obvious that she had her mother's curly hair. He brushed a palm over his face and kissed the top of Elena's head as a silent affirmation of grief. Damon wrenched his eyes closed. He hurt. For Mary Jo, the hole she tore in Elena's heart. And even in his, though he didn't recall a second of her existence. He loved her, God rest her tiny soul. Elena stirred, removing herself from Damon's grasp. He watched her carefully. Her eyes were red, soaked with tears. He stroked her hair, and she smiled the best she could. She felt alone. He could see it. She drifted across the room and picked up the hospital bag and dug through it, throwing things aside until she found what she was looking for. She held a silver ring, adorned with scrollwork on the sides. On top perched a blue stone. She stared it it for a long time, unspoken, before she could clear her throat.  
"When she died, you wouldn't go to look at caskets with me." She brushed a finger over the piece in her fingers and glanced to him. "I begged and pleaded because I was so afraid to go, but you wouldn't." She rolled her lips, tears slipping down her cheeks again in the same paths warranted by the hundred before. "That was the first time you ever yelled at me. So I wrote you off in helping me and Bonnie went instead. When we got to the morticians, they wanted me to see her." Her lip quivered, and Damon's eyes welled up a little. "She was so peaceful, Damon. She looked like a little sleeping porcelain doll. I couldn't believe that I'd just held her a day ago. She'd just smiled at me. It didn't seem real." Elena closed her eyes, trying to stay together long enough to finish her story. "I was supposed to choose a casket. I did, but I couldn't bury her in the ground. It was January and snowing." She held the ring out to him, and carefully he took it as if it were a fragile thing. "I chose to have her cremated. And the lady helping me suggested these. Her ashes are in there." She picked her own ring off her right hand, showing one that mocked his, only much more feminine. "I had lapis put on top. Her birthday was in September. The diamonds are made from her ashes. What was left is in the band. And because the army is such an ass, you had some of them put in a vial so you could take her with you." Now things made sense to him.

"And I okayed this?" Damon chuckled a little, though it was wet with the salt water sitting in the back of his throat. This was never something he would have liked. Never.  
"No, not at first. You had a fit. You flew into me about how burning her was wrong, and burying her was what we'd agreed on. You wouldn't even talk to me the next day, or at her funeral. But I didn't care. When the rings got here, I think that made it okay. But you were pissed at me for so long."

"I should've gone with you. You shouldn't have had to do that alone," he mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. His own stupid selfishness. He always tried, but it never failed to bring him down sometimes. Elena strung the ring onto the finger where the matching tanline awaited it, and he swallowed, feeling a sort of completeness that wasn't there before. She kissed it, then cradled his palm against her chest lovingly. Like she never even let any of it bother her. He was such an ass. How could she still love him after that?

"It's okay. It was hard, but we got through it." Damon shook his head.

"I should have been there for you. I can't believe that I did that to you when you needed me like that." Elena laughed a little, but the sarcasm was there.

"Me either," she spoke quietly. "I was so lost in all of it, felt like it was my fault she was gone. You tried, but I think you were just so upset shutting me out was all you knew how to do." Damon scratched his neck, too ashamed to look at her. How in the fuck had he gotten so damn lucky and treated her so bad? His own views of himself were crumbling.

"I can be good at that," he said solemnly, turning the ring around and around his finger. "Actually I sound like a Class A ass."

"You're not," Elena shook her head. She played with his hair, still sniffling as she buried her face in his shoulder, trying to pull herself together. She didn't seem to be doing a very good job of it. "You're actually better than anything I could have ever asked for." He kissed her cheek, somehow doubting that. He wished he could live up to it. So far, as what he'd heard, he'd let her down. And in no way was he proud.


	8. Tell Me Lies--That's All I Ask

_**AN: OKAY! I'm SO sorry I've left you guys hanging. Not intentional, I promise. I got tied up with finals and projects and insane college matter. I'm done for the summer, and I'm THANKFULLY starting my internship for the break at a local community theatre. I'm so excited! Mostly because I'm going to have more time to devote to this story and my other current babies that are growing in the belly of my documents folder. This chapter is just a break from Damon and Elena putting up with one another. They have to confide somewhere other than one another, and it might not end as they hoped. I hope you enjoy!**_

A kettle's whistle screamed through the house, but only a moment before it was pulled from the stove. Bonnie dropped two bags of tea leaves into each mug in front of her and covered them in hot water before carrying them into the den where her best friend was sitting, a trail of the aromatic herbs inside following her. Her off-day had gladly been occupied by Elena, who called her last minute with a need for just a chat. "Like old days," she'd said. She sat the steaming teas on the coffee table, greeting Elena with a smile as she sat.

"Where's Marie?" Elena spoke as she blew gently on the hot liquid. It smelled amazing—another personal Bonnie Bennett tea blend.

"Grams took her for the day. You know she jumps at every chance she gets," Bonnie laughed softly, curling her hands around the hot ceramic of her own mug. Silently, she was glad. Work had been horrible for her the past week, and Marie was teething and fussy. She was at a breaking point.

"I don't blame her. She's the best baby," Elena smiled. Bonnie snorted.

"You think that until her three AM fits. Anyways, I haven't seen you since the dinner two weeks ago. How are you and Damon? Things okay?" Elena balked. She slightly wished that subject wouldn't have come up, but what did she expect? Of course it would be the first rung on the ladder. She quickly held up a finger, realizing she was throwing her friend on the tracks, but who was Bonnie going to tell? Especially about this. It'd be out before long, anyways.

"Actually," she began, "I need to enlighten you on something." Elena set down her coffee cup in a prim little gesture, a smug look of knowledge on her face to cover the one that was excited about breezing over Bon's question. Bonnie raised a brow. A curious, achingly suspicious brow. Elena wiggled in her seat.

"You did /not/ hear this from me. Don't tell a /soul/. But I saw Caroline at work Tuesday and she told me that she's been seeing Tyler for the past month or so." Bonnie's mouth all but fell to the floor.  
"Caroline?! /Please/ tell me you're kidding! She...and him?!"

"I know! Caroline hated him in high school." Elena laughed. Bonnie shook her head, grinning with absolute astonishment.

"With every bone in her body! Oh come /on,/ Elena. Tell me what you know." Elena rolled her eyes, realizing Bon was totally giving her the distraction she needed. Damon's recoil and broodiness since her breakdown with him about Mary Jo had really made her upset. Damon was upset, and she wasn't even sure what else to say to him that she already hadn't. He wasn't happy with himself. His nightmares came back. And now, he was shutting her out. Again.

"I don't know anything besides she's being his 'friend.' Whatever that means." Before she knew it, Bonnie's phone suddenly appeared out of nowhere and she began tapping the screen. Elena's eyes grew.

"Pft. /I'll/ find out." A hand reached out, grabbing at it.

"Bonnie, don't! She'll kill me!"

"For telling me? /No./ I'll keep /you/ safe. She owes me a call anyways." Elena hung her head, staring at the ceiling. She didn't think Care was ready for Bonnie to know yet. Care wasn't ready for /Elena/ to know yet. And if Bonnie's story wasn't good enough, Elena would be the only other explanation.

"Well, you didn't hear from me. I never had this conversation. I'm washing my hands of it." Elena even held up her palms up, as if to show she was for real. She best go before Caroline made a trip home and spotted her car in the drive. The chances of that happening? Slim. The chances of it happening to Elena? 9 out of 10. She best split while Bonnie was involved with Caroline. "And also, I should run. It's getting late and Damon's probably wondering what the plan for dinner is." Bonnie's head shot up from her phone, looking suddenly a little sad.

"Already? You just got here! And it's not even four yet. And, you're avoiding my question," she threw in, causing her friend to slump a little in defeat. "People don't avoid my questions. Ask your brother." She spun around to see her tapping the phone against her palm. Elena feigned a careless shrug.

"Elena..."

"We're...okay. I guess." No use avoiding it. She'd just drive her nuts until she did tell.

"You guess." Brow went up.

"I /know./" Elena corrected herself with a wag of a finger and a nod of her head. "I know we're okay."

"Mm. So you totally decided to spend your first day off in weeks with your best friend instead of your partially-handicapped, amnesiac husband who's just got back from war after fifteen months of deployment? Doesn't sound very you to me, E." Elena stared at her, opening her mouth to speak but no words wanted to come out.

"I—I can't just come see my best friend?" she stammered, folding her arms as if to justify herself. "I needed some girl time." Bonnie stared at her critically, tapping a judging finger against the back of her phone.

"What's wrong?" she finally asked. Elena's dancing gaze told her that something was up. Her horrible lying, to add.

Elena sighed, dropping her purse back onto the table. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to decide where to start. Of all people she should just spill to Bonnie. She knew him almost better than Elena. /Almost./

"I don't know, Bon. It's so offsetting how he's forgotten everything, but hasn't. He knows everything about me, but he doesn't know /me./" Bonnie rose a brow.

"What do you mean?"

"I...I don't know. He's really been upset with himself, too. He's trying, he really is. Things keep coming up to him..."

"Like what things?" Elena traced the grain of the wooden surface with the pad of her finger, remembering the face of her husband from a few nights before. It still threw a javelin through her to think about it. She was mad at herself for not telling. She should have known better, but she thought she was just doing right.

"When I came home from work Tuesday, Damon had found the first ultrasound I had when I found out I was pregnant. I don't know what hurt worse, Bonnie: Having to tell him about it like he wasn't there when we heard her first heartbeat or the look on his face when I told him about how he acted." Bonnie slightly rolled her shoulders, thoughts running through her mind she would never tell Elena, simply because they'd make her furious.

"They're the truth though, Elena. He needs to know. About everything. The war, the baby, his family. It's his /life./ And if he never remembers it, at least he needs to know about it."

"I know, but he's so different now. He's like-"

"Damon from high school. Sans the attitude." Elena laughed a little. Bonnie too.

"Yeah, actually."

"Iraq changed him, Elena. Damon's one of my best friends, and I knew at dinner the other night that he wasn't the same. Or, as the same as before."

"But he still is. God, Bonnie, this is so confusing," Elena huffed, plopping back down in the sofa. "He can pop up with the most random things about us and I haven't said a thing. And then basic things he knows nothing about. Like the other day, for instance. He made my coffee, just like I like it, and I never told him. And he folded all of my clothes the way I fold them. I never told him how. He's calling me angel and for the first time in /ever/ Gorgeous Gilbert the other day. He /knows/, Bonnie, he just doesn't...he doesn't know it's me. But that Damon that I've seen only half as long as I've known him...he's not there. He's not as distant. He's...he's sweeter than before, not that I thought that was possible." Bonnie smiled at her.

"Has he told you he loves you yet?" Elena laughed lowly, not out of humor but at the thrill of the memory. Her heart raced a little. God. It was like dating him all over again.

"He did, and it was the nicest thing I'd ever heard him say. I was so scared that he wouldn't."

"How couldn't he? He was in love the second he saw you." Bonnie leaned towards Elena with a grin. "/You're welcome,/ by the way." Elena chuckled.

"I still don't know how we worked. I hated him so much in high school."

"Everyone did. Except the ones that were spreading their legs for him," Bonnie rolled her eyes. "Then how could you hate that?" Elena held up a hand with a smirk, not wanting to think about that.

"Tell me what to do, Bonnie. Please? He's back to doing it again. He's not talking, and it's scaring me. I don't want him to go back to being that way. Not that I won't love him, but he's been so happy." Bonnie bit her lip, contemplating, before she looked back up to her scared friend. She wanted to help her, but Damon was such a case. He was a damn near impossible nut to crack. Elena could do it, though.

"Be patient. Don't freak out. He's just overwhelmed. He found out he's a /dad./ That's huge. You have to let him take it his own way." Elena nodded, dabbing at her eyes with the hem of her sleeve. Patience. She could do that. Again.

–

The pads of Damon's fingers traced over the lettering pressed into the metal in his pocket. How he'd gotten these, he'd probably never know. But he did know what he was planning to do with them. He could maybe at least tell that much about himself. The tags had been tucked away in the pockets of his uniform that hung in the closet, and when he found them it told him where to go.

That's what landed him on the front porch of the Lockwood Home. Damon knocked on door of the Mayor's Mansion. It rung against his knuckles with a dull ache that told him its age. A solid, sturdy, gorgeous house that was a heirloom of the Lockwood family, it housed four generations of mayors to Mystic Falls over the course of its history. Damon remembered that from his history class in 10th grade, and the trip they took here, Tyler in tow, who didn't find it too awesome that he had to tour his own house for a pass/fail grade.

When the door opened, he wasn't quite ready to see what he saw. Tyler was there, but in no way was it the Tyler he remembered. This Tyler was tired-looking. Unshaven, dirty from some activity outside. Careless. His droopy, intoxicated eyes raked over the man in his doorway, flying fully open when he realized who he was.

"Damon?" He leaned against the doorframe, Damon able to see across his shoulder that the house inside hadn't changed a bit from that day in high school. "What can I help you with?"

"May I come in?" Damon spoke, quietly, not sure if he was ready for what he'd thought about discussing on the way here. Tyler hesitated, like he honestly didn't want /anyone/ there, and turned, vacating the doorway for Damon as he turned into the foyer.

"Drink?" He jabbed a finger at the mini-hall that opened into a lavish kitchen at the opposite end, but Damon shook his head.

"No, thanks. I'm just here to...clear some things. I wanted to talk to you about it." Tyler fell into a much-loved wingbacked chair, a beer already on the table before him. He looked to Damon, gesturing him to take the one opposite him, and Damon did.

"I'd ask what you want to talk about, but that'd be a waste of breath." Damon nodded, seeing Tyler's skip-the-fluffy-sugar-coating-bullshit attitude hadn't gone anywhere.

"You haven't changed at all have you?" Damon laughed a little. Tyler scratched the back of his neck, uneasy.

"I wish I could say that. How've you been? I was going to come by, but uh...I just can't get there it seems," he said in a smaller voice, eyes flitting reluctantly to the half-empty bottle in front of him.

"Don't worry about it. I'm decent."

"Caroline told me you were still trying to pick back up." Damon nodded.

"That's sort of why I'm here. You were my best friend in high school, Ty. I don't know where we stand now, but I'm hoping you might fill in some cracks for me." Damon paused, wringing his hands almost nervously. "Even with your mom, if it's okay with you." Across from him, Tyler rolled the neck of the beer bottle between his fingers, contemplating. It'd been almost two years. He should talk. He really should. And who better to? He cleared his throat, drawing his brows together almost like it hurt him to agree.

"I'll...I'll help where I can, Damon." Damon nodded, not quite sure where he wanted to begin.

"Can you tell me where we stand?" His brows cinched together, wondering if he was even really a welcome guest. He hadn't considered that before he came here. Lockwood rolled his shoulders.

"We're...friends. I haven't seen you since before Mom died, actually."

"Great," Damon mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. He really was a dick, wasn't he? "Tell me about from the time I deployed until I saw you last. Everything." Tyler frowned.

"Shouldn't you be asking Elena this, not me?" Damon kind of threw up his hands.

"She's telling me things, but in her own time. And I'm tired of waiting. I'm not saying she's hiding anything, but she did hide Mary Jo from me. I'm just...I want to be sure." Tyler nodded slowly.

"Okay, then. Real talk? You met her at Bonnie's Christmas party like a week or so before you went to basic. You came back, you two got serious, quick. You left for deployment." Tyler scratched the back of his neck. "You changed a hell of a lot between one deployment and another. You really cut yourself off, emotionally, from everyone. I don't know what you saw over there, man. You kind of went hermit for a while after you came back that time." Damon studied him as he spoke, as if everything he spoke was a treasure. And in a way it was.

"Did I ever hurt Elena?" Tyler nearly jumped out of his seat.

"What?"

"You heard me. Did I ever hurt Elena?"

"You're still breathing, aren't you? If you had, Jeremy and Bonnie would have hung you. Why in the hell would you think that?"

"I'm a pretty shitty husband, Lockwood. I want to fix all I've done, if I can. And to do that, I need /you/ to tell me everything." Tyler scratched the back of his neck, taking a breath.

"Okay. Honestly, I can't say. I know that at one time you were like this wall. Elena was really upset, and she asked me to try and talk you out of whatever it was, and I failed. She was scared."

"And with the baby..."

"You were just as bad, and a total complete, utter idiot that at one point, I nearly beat your ass. But I didn't think it would be fit for you to go to your daughter's funeral looking like a lost boxing match."

"I appreciate that," Damon muttered.

"You really were a shitty husband. I don't know about now, but you were. Maybe you should take this whole memory thing as a hint."

"Yeah. It's seeming that way." Damon sighed, having heard enough for today.

"Hey, Damon. Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I know you're short on the memories and all... But do you remember?" Tyler swallowed, not quite sure if he was ready to hear from the guy that witnessed his mother's death. He wrung his hands, waiting anxiously. Across from him, Damon rolled his lips, trying to decide what to tell him. Did he remember? Did he?

"That's a good question, Ty," Damon spoke weakly, eyes narrowed in deep thought. "I don't know anything anymore. I don't know my wife, I don't know the house where I live. My dad is dead and my mother is on the verge of being a damn loon. I wake up and learn all these things. Hell, Tyler, I didn't even know I was in the military until I started having nightmares." Damon took a breath. "I don't know for honest what happened to Carol. But I see it in my dreams, on a loop. And what's in my head...I can't help but think it to be true." He reached into his pocket and found the strand, unfolding it to hold it up to Tyler. He stared at it, almost terrified that he was offering it to him.

"I don't know how these landed in my possession, but I'm pretty sure I was bringing them back to you." Tyler carefully reached out and took them, almost like they would crumble in his grasp if he held them the wrong way.

"God...I..."

"Don't say it. I just...I wanted you to have these because I'm pretty sure..." /that if my dreams are true, you don't have anything left of your mom./ That's what he wanted to say, but how fucking horrible would that be? Damon fidgeted, wishing this damn dream would vacate his mind. Permanently. He rose, Tyler still tracing the letter-stamped metal with a thumb, lost it seemed, until he got up too and gave Damon a hug.

"You really don't know how thankful I am for this, Damon."

"I hear it's been rough for you, but you know Carol would kick your ass if she saw you in her parlor room with a beer." Damon snatched it off the table, examining the label. "Crappy one, no less."

"I'm working on it," Tyler nodded. "Really, I am. I've got a little help. I'm getting my shit together." Damon clapped Tyler on the shoulder.

"I'm proud of you. It's always easy to find the bottom of a bottle."  
"Yeah, but trying getting out of it."

"You'll do great, bro. And, thank you for being real. I needed it." Tyler nodded.

"Anytime, D. I'll help where I can."

Damon left the Lockwood Mansion with a killer urge to kick himself from one side of town to the other, and an equal part satisfaction for what he'd just done for Tyler. He needed closure from the death of his mother. A memorial service that was probably a folded flag and an endless array of flowers was probably what he got. Not the satisfaction of seeing his mother in a coffin. How familiar did that sound. But Damon was a mess. The worst thing he'd ever done was enlist. It scarred him. It scarred him so deep that it began to dig into Elena and hurt her, too. He wasn't strong. He was weak. That was his life. Elena didn't want him to know it. She didn't want him to think badly of himself. That was his only explanation. Why else would she? The Damon he knew would be ashamed of himself, but obviously the Damon he knew had been something he wasn't. That in itself tore him up. She deserved a better person than that. He just wondered if Elena knew that.


	9. Wax

As Damon entered the house, it was exactly how he'd left it. Silent. Elena wasn't here. She was gone before he left, and she was still out. He bested she was with Bonnie, but that was just a hunch. He flipped on lights and grabbed a granola bar from the fruit basket on the counter, trying to sate himself until she got home. Not eating all day was coming back to bite him in the ass. On the wall hung the phone, which he hadn't really noticed they had. A red '1' flashed impatiently on the tiny screen. Curious, he stabbed it. It beeped, then flowed into a message from some unfamiliar voice.

"Hey, Salvatore. It's me. Mikaelson. Kol."

Who?

"I haven't heard from you in a month or so. Hoping you're alright. And too, was wondering- can I hitch a ride with you to report this weekend? I'm sort of out of a car at the moment and don't have a way there. Anyways, let me know. Talk soon." The machine beeped again to signify that that was all. Mikaelson? He didn't know a Mikaelson. Then again, he didn't know his wife from Adam's house cat a few weeks ago. But he had to report. That was part of the army, no doubt. He didn't really know what to expect. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in thought. He flipped through a calendar on the counter to see the day, seeing Elena had scribbled down on this coming Friday: Damon Ft. Lee.

"Alright, Damon. You can do this. It's just a report. Whatever the hell that consists of." He'd spent six damn years in this crap and /none/ of it stuck? What kind of crap was /that/? Surely there was a loophole for amnesia. Unless he just had to start all over. Wouldn't that be special? He snorted a little at the thought. He was so deep in thought, he didn't hear when someone came in.

"Hey, Damon." He jumped a little at her voice, but she was looking away the moment he did. He was thankful. She unloaded her purse from her shoulder and took a deep breath, turning to him. She'd mulled over her afternoon with Bonnie, the things they talked about concerning him. She needed it off her chest, and as much as Bon helped, she needed to tell him more. She wove her hands together, anxious. "Can we talk?" Damon gave her an inquisitive look, but he nodded and pulled out the chair at the bar for her to sit. She did, but her toe-tapping just turned into knee-bouncing. She put a hand on it to make herself stop.

"What's up, babe?" He didn't sit and she kind of wished he had.

"I know that all of this about Mary Jo was a lot. And about Carol, and the war. Won't you talk about it?" Damon coughed a bit of a laugh and it rubbed her the wrong way. She almost wanted to slap him. "I'm serious, Damon," she said a little sharper. /Keep your patience, Elena./

"What am I supposed to say?"

"It's been like a week, and your haven't said a thing. You're supposed to come to me with /whatever/ it is and I feel like you don't want to, Damon. You've been through seven hells- I want to help, but you have to give me something to start with." He scratched his temple with a single finger, taking in her words, but he didn't seem to want to be apart of the conversation.

"Look, Elena, I just have to deal with this in my own way."

"You always do that and it's not good for you. You turn into a hull- like some puppet. You don't tell me things, you don't confide in me."

"I do confide in you."

"No. You /trust/ me. That's not the same thing." Two blue eyes flickered between her and the wall, accompanied by a flustered sigh.

"Elena-"

"I swear to God, if you try to end this conversation I will pack my bags and I will go to Bonnie's." He nodded, rubbed his neck, and cleared his throat. In a way, he understood what she meant. Damon just hadn't realized that he'd done it.

"Fine." He found the other bar stool and pulled it to sit next to her. "I don't know what to do with all this. I learn something new about myself everyday. I find a scar, a photograph, some weird flashback that I know nothing about. I'm overloaded, Elena. And I'm not as overloaded with the good things as I am the bad. I keep hearing that my shitty-ness and inability to have a decent relationship hasn't faded since I last remember, which is maybe high school. Your brother, my brother, my best friend- or whatever we are now – all tell me, I /sucked./ I kept you in the dark about getting shot, I was obviously an ass about the baby when she died." He shook his head. "I'm not a good husband, but I found the best damn wife out there." Elena traced the sandy-colored tile of the counter tops absentmindedly.

"You came back the first time, hurt, and you had gone dark. I don't know what you saw, if it was the gunshot, I don't know- but you were a completely different person when you got home. You started freaking out over loud noises, those night terrors came in and you were like a stone. And I was so scared, the more times you went over there, the more withdrawn you'd get. And you did. The only thing you ever told me about being gone was Carol's death, after the third time you saw it in your sleep. You woke me up, wild, screaming, pulling on me." Elena swallowed, hating those recollections in her mind, but they were so vivid she could live them all over again as she sat here. "I don't want you to just suffer with that, Damon. I want to help you. Hell, I can at least listen. I promise you, I want to hear what you have to say. You don't have to pin it all up." Elena stopped tracing grout and laid her hand on Damon's. "You're a good husband. I've told you that."

"That's an opinion," he blockaded.

"/Wrong./ It's a fact. Well, partially." Damon frowned.

"What do you mean partially?"

"Partially, because you're not my husband. /Yet./" Elena dared to crack a smile at him, trying to lighten his mood. It must have worked, because a chuckled came from somewhere in his chest as he rubbed his eyes.

"Again I say, best /girl/ ever." She smiled a little more and pulled herself closer to him.

"So whatever it is that you're telling yourself that's keeping you from talking to me: it's a lie, and you need to forget about it. /Please./ I don't want to lose you." Damon pressed his lips to hers in a silent thank you and as a reassurance that he wasn't ever, as long as he could help it, going to ever leave her side.

"I do need your help with something, though. Maybe. I'm supposed to report this weekend." Elena's smile turned upside down.

"I completely forgot about you going back this week. What are you going to tell them?"

"I really /don't/ know. I'm guessing I can just try to tell them what happened see what goes from there." "They won't keep you, will they? As a soldier? You're basically new now; you don't know the procedures anymore."

"I don't know, gorgeous. I might let someone give me an idea."

"Like who?"

"The person who called me. Some guy named Mikealson?"

"Ew. Him?"

"Ew? What do you mean 'ew'? He's supposedly a friend."

"Yes. A friend who calls only when he needs something." Elena rolled her eyes.

"He needs a ride."

"And I need a million dollars, but I'm not going to get it," she bit.

"You're really mean sometimes, aren't you?"

"I'm not mean. I'm intolerant to greedy people." Damon sighed. "Don't call him back, Damon."

"What? Just a call?"

"You know what? I don't take you to the reportings. So you can do /whatever/ you want, babe." She chuckled and got up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "But about the whole thing: I think you should really find an official as soon as you get there." He nodded in agreement, that bit of nervousness settling back in his stomach.

"I will, babe. Promise."

Friday morning at 345, Damon was driving around the boondocks looking for the house number that Kol had given him. 6014 Old Church Road. He was really beginning to question it. Houses were few and far between the further the GPS took him, and at some points the signal would even drop out. Eventually, he found it. Not a house, but a single-wide trailer with a gruffly-built set of stairs and a pile of garbage waiting to be burned against the woodline in the back yard. The screen door swung open and a dark-haired, slender guy trampled down them and up to Damon's truck.

"Morning, Damon!" he said as he slammed the door shut behind him.

"Morning," Damon said a little flatly, trying hard to place him. It failed.

"You're chipper," Kol noted as they started out.

"I'm just a little out of it," he shrugged in response.

"Well, are you ready? I'm feeling a bit excited myself."

"Excited?"  
"Yes. I need some occupation. My day job laid me off, so I've been kind of bored lately." Damon nodded, not quite sure how to take this guy. Or to approach him.

"Can I ask you something, Kol?"

"Of course, man. What's up?" Damon tightened his grip on the wheel, slightly annoyed.

"You think that if I told someone I lost my memory in an accident while I was home, they might...I don't know what to call it...recycle me?" In the passenger's seat, Kol's brows came together in contemplation of his friend's words.

"What do you mean? Are you trying to get out?"

"Oh, no. Not intentionally. I'm just trying to find out what to expect."

"Expect? You really lost your memory?" His eyes grew as he realized that the accompanying hesitated answer was a yes. Reluctantly, Damon began to recount his past 3 months of life.

"I'm relearning everything, essentially. My life."

"You don't know me then do you?" He sounded slightly crestfallen, and Damon was beginning to think old Damon saw more in this guy than Elena did. Damon, regretfully, shook his head in reply to Kol's question.

"No, I don't."

"Damn. I'm sorry, man. You're really missing out." He laughed, but then gave a more serious tone. "Really. I'm sure it's difficult."

The rest of the ride Kol recounted some of the antics that they'd gotten into in the compound in Iraq. Smuggling alcohol, exchanging the good their girls sent them in care packages during their time away for Playboys and rarely-if-ever-seen cigars. Damon wished he could remember /this/ part of the war. It would be better than the only thing he /did/ recall.

When they arrived, Damon immediately started looking for someone he could tell his situation. People were everywhere in a sheet of camo-green, no one really standing out as an overhead. He even lost Kol in the mix. Before he could really start asking questions, they were all ordered into formation. Damon was lost, but followed suit with the 300 others that at least knew what the hell they were doing. Someone stood up front – a woman with hair drawn into a tight golden bun and a look of hellacious ferocity. She paced along each row and started rattling off a reminder of what they were here for. Usually, Damon knew he would care, but today he didn't. He wanted to tell his story to someone before he was in over his head.

"You're going to be tested medically as well as physically," the woman stated. As she got closer, she seemed to shrink in stature. "And you'll be seen that you're fit enough to be deployed to Afghanistan two weeks from today."

"/What?/" Damon blurted, and obviously it was wrongly done. He could have whispered and gotten away with it, but he panicked. War? He couldn't leave. He couldn't remember where half the shit was in his own house, much less what he was supposed to do in combat. Three rows up, the blonde-headed woman was shouldering her way through the rows back to Damon's, eyes glued to him as if he'd asked a forbidden question. She scraped a long glance over him, scrutinizing, and he could tell she wasn't one that was to be questioned. She had a name on her uniform: Branson.

"Problem?" she said shortly, quietly even, but it didn't erase the pissed-off tone in her voice. Damon shook his head, not daring to meet her gaze. He knew enough to know /that/ was a step in the wrong direction.

"No, ma'am," he promptly responded, feeling a little sick as the idea of deployment really sank in.

"Alright, then. Shut up," she spat, then slowly turned and went back down the row to continue her speech. "Does anyone else have a question before I try to speak again?" Her eyes darted over the group of men and women, but no one so much as breathed. When there wasn't an answer, Branson continued. Talking himself down, he realized he might not have much reason to panic. If he was being evaluated physically, he wouldn't pass what high standards they surely possessed to defend the people. Or at least he would think. He heard the brash voice of Branson call for soldiers with a name beginning with A-J to go in one direction, the rest of the alphabet in another. Shit. So much for sticking with someone he knew.

A short time later, Damon had veered himself away from the crew of soldiers and into a building that was supposedly administration. Though he didn't see anyone alive here, he was about to try his damnedest to find someone superior. He twisted doorknobs, finding almost every one locked. Was everyone on damn lunch. He peeped through the window of an office, seeing the clock hung over the wall. It wasn't even 8 AM yet.

"Ha. I'll just wait here, then," he snickered, and he sunk to the floor to do just that. Someone would be through shortly, and they'd get him into an office of some person that would help him. Surely. He needed to call Elena, but his phone was in his truck. Leaving to his vehicle was surely something frowned upon. Then again, he was here in administrative services instead of being evaluated on a field. He was sure to get reprimanded. He heard footsteps—boots, no less –coming down the corridor. He got back to his feet, but as he looked up he was really not happy to see who they belonged to.

"Well, isn't it the Chatterbox from the formation?" the woman that was Branson sang, amused. "You're out of place here, aren't you?" Damon shook his head, but he realized he wasn't at attention before he could even speak. He started too, but he felt like he was far too late. So, he just tore into why he wasn't with the 150 others outside in the blustering sun.

"Before you put a strike on my record, I need some sort of assistance. I've been on medical leave for a while now following an accident. I lost my memory, and an injury I sustained in the war- I think –is worse than before. I don't know exactly what I'm supposed to do." Branson narrowed her eyes at him. Whether she was thinking or trying to decide on how to take his story, he'd never be sure.

"You don't remember any of your basic training? Your deployments? Any of it?"

"No, ma'am. I didn't even know I was enlisted until my wife told me."

"What's your name, soldier?"

"Salvatore. Damon Salvatore." He was awaiting some sort of yelling, a referral to someone higher than her. Something.

"You honestly think that you're no longer fit for service?" She was still as a statue, only her mouth moving when she spoke.

"I do. Ma'am." Again the look of scrutiny was on her round face. Like she doubted every word he was saying. Labeling him a weakling. But he wasn't, according to his dreams. So when she nodded solemnly, it completely caught him off guard. Branson pulled a brass key out of her pocket and pushed through the door Damon had been waiting by. No one was there, but she found a computer and pointed to a chair across from her.

"Let's see what we can do for you, Salvatore."

–

Elena hung over the sink, feeling like hell. Caroline was supposed to be here within the hour, and she couldn't stop throwing up her guts. She plugged a pin or two into her curly hair, leaving it at that. Eyeliner, some blush. She wasn't pale. Yet. God, if she caught that virus from the Sheriff, Elena would kill her. She hated being sick. Took away from her routine.

"Knock knock!" Caroline's voice chimed through the hallway and into the bathroom where Elena had just dropped her makeup back into the bag.

"Come in! I'll be there in a moment!" She brushed her teeth, even the smell of the toothpaste getting to her, and threw on her shoes. Caroline was waiting at the bar, having already fixed herself a cup of coffee and reading the untouched newspaper.

"Why do they print these? Everything that's news is depressing." She pursed her lips out, as if to prove her displeasure, and then laid it back down.

"I don't know. I save it for Damon. He reads it every morning after his run." Elena picked up her purse, but felt slightly queasy again.

"Well," Caroline started, downing the rest of her coffee and then neatly setting it in the sink, "Let's go. Those mimosas aren't going to drink themselves." She saw Elena's face as she turned, and she sank into a concerned mode.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Fine. Let's just go, Care," she muttered, not wanting to ruin the day she had planned. On the other hand, Caroline wasn't all so convinced.

"If you're sick, we can do this next week. No biggie," she said smallishly, as if not to aggravate her with her concern. Elena shook her head.

"I'm just hungry. Once I eat, I'll be fine."

But the idea of eating grew more disgusting as she thought about it. Brunch meant meat and eggs and oatmeal- and god knows what else. And frankly, she wanted none of it. At one point she thought she might hurl at the thought, but for the sake of Caroline's car she kept it down. Now they were at her mother's, and a spread was in the other room. Elena was doing her best to avoid it for now, staying in the parlor room with a few others. Sheriff Forbes—or Liz, as she preferred outside of work –came out of the kitchen, looking much more feminine than usual. She was actually quite a gorgeous woman when she wasn't a pack mule of police gear. She was nicer out of uniform too, but she'd never say that.

"Matt!" Elena grinned when she saw her friend come through the door. He held the hand of a thinnish girl she wasn't sure she'd ever seen. She was dressed rather LA for tiny Mystic Falls, but it took a moment for the pieces to fall together in her mind.

"Lena!" He wrapped her in a hug despite the girl beside him who fidgeted nervously. Regardless, it made Elena feel like they were in high school again.

"I've missed you!"

"Gah, I missed you too! How is everything? Damon?"

"He's really good, actually. He's gone to report this weekend," Elena carried on, smiling over at the blonde stranger. "Who's this?" A proud smile lit up Matt's face as he wrapped an arm around the girl's waist.

"Elena, this is my girl, Rebekah Gerard. Rebekah, this is one of my best friends from high school, Elena Gilbert." Rebekah smiled sweetly, extending a ,nd for Elena, who accepted it kindly.

"It's nice to meet you, Elena," she smiled. "I've heard lots of good things about this little town. I'm ready to see for myself."  
"Bex is going to move into town next month," Matt piped in. Rebekah rolled her eyes, still smiling.

"Yes, I am. He's telling everyone. And I thought /I/ was excited." She laughed, and someone called out for everyone to come eat. Ten-thirty on the dot. Elena lingered, letting herself catch the last of the line. Caroline popped out of the dining room into the one where Elena sat, a plate full of food and her mimosa in hand.  
"You're last?! You were the one so hungry you were sick earlier!" she huffed. "Here." She picked up a tiny quiche from the edge of her plate and Elena thought she might lose it.

"Care, no. I'm good. Thanks." She gently pushed her friend's hand away, feeling a little better that it was gone. That mimosa, though, she might go for. She held out her hand for it.

"What is /wrong/ with you? You're all about brunch usually." Caroline reluctantly passed the glass over, watching as Elena took a long sip. "Right now you look like-"

"I might throw up."

"Yes. Exactly." Caroline popped the quiche into her mouth, groaning with pleasure at the taste. "Mm. This is /heaven./" When she opened her eyes to make sure Elena didn't want the second one, Elena was gone. She blinked, confused, and made a bee-line to the power room.

Elena felt her forehead break out into a cold sweat as soon as the orange juice hit her stomach. Her head swam and she was sure she might not be able to make it down the hall. She all but tripped over her own ankles as bile rose out of her throat and into her mouth, and just as she hit the door of the bathroom, she lost it all in the toilet. The most wretched thing any person had to endure, she felt, was vomiting.

"Elena?!" Heels click-clacked on the tile, but Elena just groaned in response. She heard water running, and then a cold rag laid over her cheek. /God, that felt good./

"This happened yesterday. I'll be fine in a couple minutes. Just go back out there, Care," she said, waving her away. "Don't let me damper your morning."

"Damper my-? Elena, you should know better than that," she scolded, rummaging through the cabinet. "Here. Take some of these. They'll help." She popped three antacids out of a bottle into Elena's hand. "You said this happened yesterday?" Caroline started to inquire.

"Yeah. And the day before. But I didn't vomit. Just queasy. I think I caught something."  
"That's weird. Like morning sickness," she pondered as she was going through the cabinet again, this time in search for a thermometer. Elena wrinkled her nose.

"Morning sickness..." She couldn't say she knew what that was like. She'd never had it with Mary Jo. She got nauseated at certain foods, but never anything like that. But out of paranoia, she began to count. And slowly, she started to panic.

"What day is it?" Caroline blinked.

"Uhm...I don't know?"

"Care, /what day is it?/" Elena said through clenched teeth. Quickly Caroline glanced at her watch, the dial reading out that it was August 2.

"The second," she nodded and looked to Elena who was only now turning a paler shade. Elena was counting again, this time out loud.

"Oh my God," Elena whispered. "I can't be." She scrambled to her feet, starting to search for her keys only to realize she came with Caroline.

"Please let me borrow your car, Care. I need to go to the pharmacy /right now./" She held out her hands, almost desperate. She wanted to know for sure so badly, she'd almost steal the sheriff's patrol car if Caroline didn't answer quicker.

"Look, Elena, calm down. Maybe you got that thing Mom had last week. You two work together, and-"

"Care, KEYS." Caroline took her clutch purse from underneath her arm and unzipped it, pulling out a box instead a wad of keys. Much to Elena's surprise, it was a pregnancy test. Elena blinked.

"What are you doing with that?" Caroline rolled her eyes.

"Well I was going to use it, but you're in much more of a panic than I am over this situation."

"You're-"  
"Elena, you owe me a test. Now piss on that stick and tell me what happens!"

Elena kept checking and rechecking the box. It was only supposed to take 3-6 minutes. Caroline wasn't knocking, so she must not be anywhere near that long. But god, was this not going on like 20 minutes? At least it seemed that long.

"Anything?"

"No. Not yet," Elena itched, bracing herself against the counter as she watched the test on the sink. She reached over and opened the door, letting her friend in. Care walked in a peeped over at the test. "How long has it been?"

"Two minutes?"

"Oh my gosh!" Elena groaned. "I don't know if I can do this again, Care."

"What?! Elena Marie Gilbert, I can't believe I just heard you say that!"

"I'm serious, Caroline. The first time didn't pan out so well." Caroline gaped at her best friend.

"There is soap on that counter and I'm about two seconds from using it to wash your mouth out! You know better than to say stuff like that! What happened to Mary Jo wasn't your fault. It's something that just happens." She rubbed Elena's shoulder lovingly and reassuringly. "You're the best mom I've ever seen, Elena. And—oh my gosh."

"What?! What is it? Is it?" Elena hid her face behind her hands. She couldn't look. She was afraid of the positive, and she was sure she'd be devastated if it was a negative. Caroline suddenly grabbed Elena and spun her around, holding the test up for her to see. And on the tiny little screen against a white background was a plus. A positive. A yes.

"Elena, you are! You're pregnant!"

"Oh my god!" Elena felt like she might cry. "I'm having a baby!" Both the girls let out squeals of absolute delight, and hugged each other up. Elena really didn't know what to think. She really was ecstatic. Overjoyed. She'd prayed for a long time for a second chance, and she just might have been granted it. She felt the tears rise in her eyes, and she quickly dabbed at them to save her makeup. She wanted to call Damon, stat, but she knew that he was involved and maybe not even on the planet at the moment. He came home tomorrow morning, though. Would she even be able to sleep she was so damn excited?

"Oh my gosh. Okay. Wow," she laughed, trying to put herself back on solid ground. "Brunch thing. Outside. I'm sure people are wondering where we are." She straightened herself up and repinned her hair. "And I need a ginger ale. Maybe that'll calm me down some until I can think straight."

"Anything you want, Mama," Caroline teased, taking Elena's arm. Elena laughed, laying a finger on her lips as they waltzed back into the dining room to join the rest of the guests.


	10. Wane

Of course, there were no loopholes in the army for amnesiacs. After an hour of Branson- whom Damon finally learned her first name was Lexi –on the phone with multiple people, it turned out to be semi-wasted. He was instructed by his higher up to go through with the weekend like he would normally. He was to do drills, be evaluated, the whole nine yards. But with the evaluation, explain to the doctor his status. Pull records, whatever he needed. But if it worked, he could probably either go home or go back to basic training, depending on the doctor's opinion. So now he was sitting in an exam hall waiting for the on-base practitioner to "decide" if he was well enough to fight. Damon wasn't ashamed to fight, but he was fucked up enough to know that he didn't want to go back. Not now, at least.

"Damon Salvatore," he heard a voice say almost like a greeting. A white-coated man turned the corner, a chart his in his hand. It was rather thick, Damon thought as he took in what seemed to mock a novel. The doctor flipped through it as he sat on the stool across from Damon, who was pacing the room.

"Long time no see."

"Sure." It was all Damon knew to say back. He had no fucking idea who this man was.

"How's about that leg? Still working alright?" Obviously he was supposed to know who he was. He must be his regular doctor. Or something. Maybe that could help him out.

"The leg is minimal compared to others," Damon grumbled.

"Have you been to a doctor outside of base?" He wasn't sure if he was ignoring him or continuing the conversation with that sentence.

"Yes. I was in the hospital for...a while." The doctor's brow rose and his friendliness quickly faded into a tone of serious.

"Hospital. When?"

"About a month or two ago, I guess. I got ran over by a car. I was in a coma. Amnesia. Fucked up my fucked up leg more. I can't walk without a damn limp anymore." He hissed a little, wringing his hands a little too tightly. He was frustrated. He wanted to go home, really. Be with Elena.

"Calm down, Damon," the guy in white started, "How bad is your amnesia? Why the fuck don't I have the records?" He started flipping through Damon's chart again, but no. He hadn't received that lovely bit of information. Damon could tell he was irritated by it. As he should be.

"I don't remember enlisting in the military, if that gives you any hint," Damon growled some, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't remember basic training, the war I was in. That's just the tip of the iceberg."

"You don't remember /anything?/"

"No, damn it. I don't remember /anything./ I don't remember the war, I don't remember how the hell I'm supposed to hold an assault rifle. I. Don't. Know." Damon was fuming. He didn't know how he was supposed to prove it to the government he was honest about this. And frankly he was panicking.

"Where're your records? I have to have records stating your medical status before I can really say you're unfit."

"I—I don't know. Insurance- that's all the government. You're all the government. Don't you talk?" The doctor coughed a little, an amused smile on his face.

"You really don't remember, do you? I'll put this in to someone to see what we're supposed to do, Damon. It's the weekend, but I'll have it in front of someone Monday morning. I am requesting you don't do drills because of that leg. Do you want some pills for that?" Damon shook his head. None of that. He didn't want to fall prey to a popping addiction. He could deal. He dreaded telling Elena. She'd worry; He didn't want her to.

"Chances that they'll let me out of this are high, right?" The doctor nodded, shrugged.

"Pretty. I'd say upper nineties. Sending you over there is like dropping you in a mine field. I'll call as soon as I know something."

"Thanks, Doc," Damon nodded. Nineties. That's a good chance.

"But, until we hear anything, you're marked down to go. They'll have to process you, mark your records, all that before it's official. And until they say you're discharged, you're an active member. You don't show up to duty, they'll come after you." Damon sat a moment, processing those words.

"Are you saying that if the government doesn't get my paperwork done before this unit leaves, I have to go with them?" The doctor tapped his pen almost ruefully before he finally looked up to Damon again.

"Yeah. I'm afraid so."

–

"Tell me, Caroline," Elena demanded with a laugh, setting the plates on the table. She'd changed the cloth, the centerpiece, and set a bottle of beer Damon loved to splurge on occasionally there in place of his drinking glass. "You have to. Friends tell friends these things." On the other end of the line, Caroline snorted.

"Are you kidding? I haven't even gotten the test out of the bag yet."

"I thought you were 'just friends' with Tyler anyways."

"Uhm. Well, things happen..." Elena could imagine Caroline looking anywhere but at her, fidgety and antsy.

"Mhm," Elena chuckled, sitting down to wait on the timer to sound off on the stove. The house was filled with the smell of a cooking ham and vegetables on the stove. She was hungry enough to start now, before it was even done. "Well, when you do decide, call me back as soon as it hits the sink." Caroline groaned.

"Elena, what am I going to do? I'm not mom material. And Tyler is a damn drunkard. And a hermit. He's a hermit drunkard, Elena!" Elena had to stifle a little bit of a laugh, but she knew what she meant. The idea was downright terrifying.

"You'll be great. Don't worry. Definitely not until you find out for sure." She could hear the garage door whirring shut and she jumped to her feet.

"Let me know, Care. I've got to go. Damon's here." She swapped off the phone, removing any type of possible distraction from the room. She was brimming with excitement, and she wasn't sure she was going to be able to wait much longer. Finally, he trudged in looking tired and close to zombie status. But when he saw Elena, some of that fell away and was replaced with a smile.

"Hey, babe," he smiled, engulfing her in a hug and giving her a long overdue kiss. "You cooked again? What am I going to do with you?" She laughed, pecking his cheek and going to the stove as the timer sounded.

"How was the weekend?" She handed him a bowl of green beans as she took a plate of the meat to the table. "Did you tell Ric?"

"Who?"  
"Ric. The doctor. He was there, right?" She sat at the table, and he could tell she was finicky. Fluttery. She was smiling. Alot. He narrowed her eyes at her as she dished out a portion of food onto his plate.

"Right. /Ric./ Uhm. Yeah, I did, babe."

"What is it?" She looked so happy, he didn't want to kill it with some could-be-good, could-be-bad news.

"Nothing. What did you do while I was gone?" He went for his glass, only to find a beer there instead. He rose a brow. "Beer?" What was with her?

"Damon, I need to tell you something." Elena flattened the napkin in her lap, dancing in her seat, and it wasn't until then he realized she hadn't even made herself a plate.

"Okay. I think."

"I'm not totally sure, but I-" She huffed as she tripped on her words, then just blew it out in a single, pent up breath.

"I'm pregnant." Damon stared at Elena, and a smile started to grow across his face.

"Are you serious?" She started to nod, and he pulled her over to him. He kissed her cheek, chuckling at the idea. Him, a dad.

"I'm going to the doctor to be sure, of course, but I took three tests just to see. They were all positive."

"Elena, this is-"

"I know," she laughed as he planted a kiss on her lips. "Believe me, I know. I'm scheduling an appointment first thing tomorrow. You're going, aren't you?"

"Are you crazy? I wouldn't miss it for the world!" he grinned. A baby. He couldn't believe it. Elena peppered his face in kisses, pausing when she felt his hand rest on her abdomen.

"I'm glad you're going to get this again. /We're/ going to get this again." He stared at her tiny frame, trying to imagine her swollen with their child, but he couldn't remember. And he wondered if he was gone the first time she was pregnant.

"Babe?" she ran her fingers through his hair, and he finally turned his attention to her. She was still smiling, but obviously his had gone. She looked a little concerned. Maybe she should be.

"My platoon is leaving out in two weeks for overseas." She furrowed her brow, confused.

"Why do you look like that? You're not going. Right?"

"I-"

"Damon."

"I don't know yet. The doctor –Ric –is supposed to try and get it situated, but if it's not processed by the time the platoon is slated to leave, I have to go with them." Elena's mouth fell open.

"You can't- you're- You can't go!"

"Elena, calm down. They're going to process it. Ric asked me to be knocked out of drills because of my leg. If he did that, that should tell them enough. It's going to be fine."

"But what if it isn't?"  
"Elena-"  
"You have /no/ clue what to do over there, Damon. You said it yourself: you don't rememb-" He laid a finger on her lips to quiet her. Her cheeks were hued red with being flustered. And he thought he saw a bit of fear in her eyes. That was exactly why he didn't want to tell her.

"It's going. To be. Okay." She just stared at him like she really didn't want to believe what he'd just said. And knowing what he'd taught her, she probably didn't. "I'll call the base back tomorrow and talk to Ric. I promise, babe." Elena took a deep breath, nodding.

"I just don't want you to get hurt or worse. I've already lost you once, Damon."

"You didn't lose me. I was just- temporarily misplaced." He smirked, trying to lighten the mood. It worked, because a shadow of a smile hit her lips.

"Whatever. It was close enough. You didn't know me from Adam's housecat."

"I do now, though. I learn more everyday."

"Do you?" She looked intrigued. "Like what?" Damon sat back in his chair, like he had to think.

"I've learned that when you get mad, your hips get this little sashay." He started moving his hands side-to-side, biting his lip almost like it was killing him to think about it. Still in his lap, Elena's face flared a little as she laughed.

"I do not 'sashay'." She pulled his hands down.

"No, babe. You /definitely/ sashay." She rolled her brown eyes back in her head with another laugh, this one stifled.  
"Okay, sure. Keep going."

"I know that more than anything you have a huge heart. You're loving. Kind. And it radiates off of you like the sun. Anyone that's willing to put up with me, sick me, is an angel in disguise." She smiled.

"I do it because I love you, silly."

"I swear, I'd propose to you again if I hadn't done it already." He chuckled, pushing a lock of chestnut-colored hair from her face. God knows, she was everything he ever wanted. Elena shook her head, only able to respond with a kiss. She had no words, really. Suddenly, Damon pulled away.

"Why don't we?" She looked confused.

"Why don't we what?"

"Get married? We talked about it before. We should go ahead." She blinked.

"Are you serious?"

"Hell yes I am!" Elena was a little struck. She hadn't even thought about it, merely because of the accident. She thought of it as a set back. It didn't bother her. She wasn't going anywhere. But it made a little flutter of excitement start somewhere in her chest. "What do you say, babe? We can pick a date. Go from there."

"You're sure?" Damon laughed.

"Elena, I already asked you. And you've got a binder in your bedside table that's growing." She gently shoved his shoulder, giving him a semi-appalled look.

"You're not supposed to look in there!"  
"Well I did and I think it's time you decide between those lace and satin swatches for your dress.," he spoke softly, taking her hand. Elena smiled, a contagious one. He raised an expectant brow, grinning back. He wanted this, and he knew she did too. If not more than him.

"So? Is that smile a yes?" She began to nod, brown curls bouncing as she did.

"Yes. Yes yes yes. I'm /so/ ready to be your wife." Damon pulled Elena closer to him, kissing her again but with that grin still on his face.

"Well then you better call Caroline, babe."

Their conversation had kicked Elena's planning back into gear. She'd almost completely stopped once the accident happened, focusing all her time on Damon and work. She hadn't even thought about the binder that, like Damon noted, was almost no longer closing it was so filled with magazines, fabric swatches, color palettes, and invitation samples. But not only that, now she found herself saving colors for a nursery and scribbling down names she might share with Damon. Her life was expanding again, and this time it was doubly. Her first appointment was scheduled, but extended a while because her doctor was gone to the tropics for vacation. Typical. She hadn't yet told anyone but Caroline, but that was because she wanted to be sure. And if anything, she wanted to share all of the news at once with their friends and family. She wasn't against doing it now, but Damon had made her promise. Just until after the appointment, then they'd tell them. Though Bonnie was the exception to that promise. It resulted in hugs and happy tears, and of course the swear that she'd not tell anyone.

"Hey, Damon," Elena started as she flipped through an album on her phone. It was filled with flowers, shoes, dresses, and decorations. "I don't think I want a big to do."

"I thought that was supposed to be every girl's dream: a big blowout wedding," he answered, flipping out the light in the bathroom as he came to bed.

"It is. But then you find who you love, and it doesn't really matter that much anymore."

"Listen, babe. I think you deserve whatever you want. If you want to rent a church, say so. If you want to call the JP, we can do that too." Elena laughed.

"I do want /something./ It's an important day. And I want all our family there. And friends, too. I was thinking...what about we have it at Bonnie's?"

"Bonnie's? Really?"

"Yes, really. She has a gorgeous backyard. And there's plenty of space. It's where we met. I think it'd be sentimental for us to have it there." His lips quirked at the edges, amused.

"I love your mind, babe. But you think Bonnie would be okay with that?"

"I'm going to ask her at dinner, but I'm sure she'll say yes." Elena was beaming with excitement over her idea, and she flipped through her notebook, checking off a list. She started in on ideas for the yard, but she may as well been prattling to herself. Beside her, Damon was involved with his phone, and she was beginning to eye him with a bit of annoyance.

"Are you okay?" His gaze darted up to her, and he quickly nodded.  
"Fine. Why?"

"You never pay attention to your texts. What's so important over there?"

"Nothing." He made it a point to drop his cell on the end table, though he didn't look too happy about it. "Just playing with it. Haven't really paid much attention, but these things are crazy smart." Elena suspiciously flipped a page in her book, turning back to it.

"Hm. Okay, then." Damon didn't return to it after that and instead flipped out his light. He leaned over her shoulder, kissing her cheek as he peeked at the book in her lap. It was spread open to a page that was displaying an array of dresses. Some were scratched out with pen, written on as 'too long', 'too fluffy', or 'wrong cut', whatever the hell that meant. She had one she'd dogeared and left unscathed of critical marks that the others had befallen, and he couldn't help but ask.

"Is that your dress?" It was one of those asymmetrical ones, but that was all he got before she closed the book. She'd obviously not thought he was looking.

"I think it's time for bed, babe," she smiled in a secretive way, shoving the poor thing back into its resting place. He laughed lowly, sinking back into the pillows as she curled into his side.

"You're sure all this isn't too fast for you, Damon?" Elena started. "I mean, considering the accident?"

"What? No. I don't have all the pieces, but I have enough, Lena. I know where I was going."

"It's not like starting all over?"

"Some of it. Alot of it, really. But I'm okay. I'm just...falling back into the flow. I'm a few years behind, but I learn fast." She laughed a little.

"I'm just following your lead on all this. I don't want to drag you out of your comfort zone with anything."

"So the baby was in my comfort zone?" he poked, almost snorting a laugh.

"You're an awesome daddy, Damon."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. And you're really good at making a fussy baby un-fussy. /Really/ good." She laughed softly, and he realized she was part-way in a daydream of a memory.

"Taking your word for it, because that's all I've got." Elena smiled at that, threading her fingers through his as a bit of silence filled the room. "You'll see I'm right," she finally replied, but when she looked up to him, he was out. Sound, the sight made her just a little more tired herself. She'd been so excited learning about the baby she had hardly slept. And now, it was catching up with her. Just as she began to close her eyes, the ceiling lit up. Damon's phone on the table beside him was buzzing soundlessly, but Damon was so asleep he couldn't hear it. Her eyes danced between it and Damon, wondering if he would wake if she reached across to grab it. Then it buzzed again, this time a text. She thought about leaving it, but part of her worried that it could be about Mary. She gracefully swept it off the table's surface, Damon not even budging as she settled back into the bed with it. The messages, though, weren't from Stefan or that retirement home up North. It was from Ric. Opening the message, she felt her heart sink a new level as she read each word from the tiny screen in her hands:

_Not processed._ _Deployment Friday AM. Sorry, Damon. _


	11. I'll See You in the Morning Sun

Coffee sat in the french press though she really didn't want or need it. The smell just comforted her, a nice accompaniment to the sun as it slowly rose in these early hours. She sat on that too-fluffy couch in the blueish morning dark and its silence. Just sat, thinking. Considering. Wondering. She wished Damon would wake up. She wanted to get it over with, the yelling or whatever might ensue. Part of her was angry. Alot of her was angry. But it was more at the fact of the matter than him. She was bitter at the army, at the system, how many years of their life together they'd taken away. Half, so far. And now it seemed as if they'd be getting more. Or even the rest. She heard the creak of the wooden floorboard on his side of the bed as he stood. She waited and his footsteps finally wandered into the living room to find her. He looked confused, as he should be. Most definitely their roles were reversed today, Elena up with the rising sun and Damon trailing behind.

"What are you doing up, babe?" he grogged, squinting through the morning darkness to see her. Obviously he hadn't seen his messages. But she wasn't in the mood to dance around it.

"Why didn't you tell me about the paperwork, Damon?" She stared at his silhouette, the light just barely bright enough for her to see the subjugated look on his face.

"There wasn't anything to tell."

"You said you were keeping it in check. And now it's not gone through? Damon, you have to leave in... twenty-seven hours from now."

"That's twenty-seven hours that it could still be processed and I can still get out of it. Please, babe, don't-"

"No, /you/ don't."

"Elena-"

"If I'd known it was so damn difficult for them to take a piece of paper somewhere I would have gotten it and taken to the state office myself," she bit. "What are we supposed to do? What are /you/ supposed to do? You're...you're like a sitting duck if you go. We don't even know if you're coming back."

"I'm coming back."  
"You don't know that." Her voice was acidic, almost foreboding any other idea.

"I'm coming. /Back./" He was actually a little hurt that she didn't have the confidence in him to get himself home in one piece. The glaring distress in her eyes made it saddening. But he had to remember: That was a fault of his own. He made her believe in the worst and to expect it to happen over the good. He'd drained her of her optimism. Not just him, but the multitude of things that had happened to her in seven short years. He could see why. But he couldn't leave her knowing that was her attitude.

"Come on, babe. Give me a little credit." Elena caught her lips between two blunted front teeth, watching Damon intently. "Don't you trust me?"

"It's not /you/ I don't trust. It's them. I mean, how hard is it to see that you /can't/ go over there and do anything when you-" She just stopped, throwing her hands into the air in frustration and, from what Damon could see, fighting back a sob.

"Hey, babe, Elena. Don't worry. I'll be fine. Ric is going to help and I'll be back here, home, with you, and we'll do everything like we said." He gave her a smile hoping to lighten her mood, but it didn't seem to be working. "It's just some stupid misunderstanding that's taking some time."

"Damon, shut up. Do you hear yourself? You're flying into another country full of people who want you dead. God knows what you're slated to do- combat, I'm sure. It's your specialty." Her words struck him wrong and instantly lit a fire in him.  
"You don't think I know that?" he growled. "All weekend, I stared at these massive guns that everyone around me knew like the back of their hand. And me? I didn't know shit. I don't know how to load it. I don't know about these places these people have been. I don't know anything about Syria, Afghanistan, Kuwait- Fuck, Elena. I don't /want/ to know. All I care about is getting the hell out of there and being here with you. That is my goal. So forget whatever brainwashing crap I told you before. I need you to be positive, Elena. For me, for us. And for our baby. Because I'm coming back. Somehow or another." Elena didn't say anything. She just stood, arms wrapped around herself, an expression on her face that resonated with fear. He eliminated the distance between them, putting his own arms around her as the kissed cheeks that were already stained with tears.

"I'm sorry," she barely voiced. She took deep breaths and brushed her cheeks with her palms.

"Don't freak out. They'll send me back. You watch, babe." She shook her head, and he was tense until he heard a tiny laugh from her.

"If you're not back in three weeks, I'm kicking your ass," she smiled. He could tell she was trying. Her eyes fell, and she patted a hand against his broad chest, thinking.

"You should start packing. I'll find your bag and uniform. I'm sure there's a list in all the paperwork your brought home." And off she went down the hall.

The next day brought deployment. Bonnie had skipped the last hour of her shift to see him off and to be with Elena. She stood at the terminal as they approached, and she gave him a look of disapproval that was more of a "you really are an ass, but I still love you" look. They were nearly an hour early, but they were nowhere near the first ones there. Parents seeing off their children, and spouses their spouses. Then she saw the children barely old enough to walk there to see their mom or dad go, and Elena's heart clenched. She stood, squeezing Damon's shoulder and mumbling about needing water. Damon was slightly grateful, because he wanted a second with Bonnie before he had to go.

"I know you will, but I'm really asking you, Bonnie. Please watch after Elena." Bonnie started waving a dismissive hand, then laid it on his arm.

"You know you don't have to worry, Damon. She'll be just fine. I promise."  
"No, Bon. I really mean it." He pursed his lips, contemplating. Elena was across the waiting lobby, stabbing a finger at a dial on the soda machine. He knew they'd planned elsewise, but he didn't know that that would happen. "Don't act like you know, but Elena just found out she's-"  
"Pregnant? Oh, /I know,/ Damon." She rolled her eyes almost like it was old news. He blinked.

"What?"

"Don't you know women tell each other /everything?/ Damon, Elena's going to be fine. You just focus on coming back."

"But all that Jeremy told me-"

"If she needs to, the front bedroom is open. She knows she's welcome." Damon smiled at her. He was grateful that she was such a good friend, to him and to Elena, and that she was so willing to help her while he was gone. Elena came back over and sat, passing bottles of icy cold water to both him and Bonnie. She checked her watch and sat beside Damon on the bench, leaning against his arm.

"I'm calling Ric this afternoon," she said as she folded an arm around his, as if to reassure him in some way. He didn't say anything. He just kissed the top of her head and took one of her hands in his.

A near thirty minutes later, Damon's flight was called. The security gates opened, and soldiers reluctantly began to pass through them. Some kept stealing kisses and hugs as they neared them, and some were too engulfed in hugs to even start to leave. Damon stood, the part Elena hated more than anything in the world, simply because that meant he was ready to go. But in her mind, she told herself that this was possibly the last time she'd ever have to do this again. She'd never have to worry if he was hurt, never have to stand here and wait for those gates to open and take her husband away for yet another unknown length of time. He'd be home, with her. Damon looked unsure, but at the same time he looked stern. As if he were bracing himself for this. Perhaps in any other situation, he'd be okay. She couldn't imagine what was going through his mind. He took a breath, then looked down to her.

"I love you, Gorgeous Gilbert." That made her smile, and god was he happy to see one of those. He grinned.

"I love you, too." She stretched up on the ends of her toes to kiss him, long and hard, like she might never get another. Mid-kiss, there was another call for his flight. The lobby was thinning out quickly, but either of them could really care less.

"You'll be okay," he nodded, rubbing a solid palm across her shoulders in those soothing little circles he liked to do. Anywhere else, she'd be drowsy with sleep. But now they just calmed her. Even if just a little. She hugged him tight, and as he returned her embrace she did her best to memorize exactly how this felt.

"I gotta go, babe," he whispered against her cheek, slowly releasing his grip. She took a deep breath and nodded, stepping away. He gathered his bag and as he turned, he stole one more kiss from her as a final call was made for his flight. Another exchange of a whispered 'I love you', and he turned for the gate. Watching him go was like a slow-motion scene, and she was definitely scared. But as he hit the turn stile, she realized she had one last thing to say.

"Damon!" He whipped his head around to see her.

"I'll see you when you come back." A smile spread across his lips as he was ushered through the gate, down a hall, and out of her sight.


	12. Margaritas and an Angel's Grace

_**AN: To the commenter that said something about a congressman, I give you a cookie! I was shocked to see we were on the same page. :D I hope to pull some of the things that seem a little out there in together by next chapter. This is getting heady, and I've found myself wanting to write four different chapters at once! So much to happen! Stay tuned!**_

"Okay, Damon. Peonies-" Elena held up a single flower on a stem. "or chrysanthemums." She held up another, only this one was red. Damon furrowed his brow, glancing between the two on the screen.

"Babe, what's the difference?" Elena rolled her eyes, letting out a slightly irritated huff.

"They're totally different, Damon. The peony has wide, ruffled petals and the other has skinnier ones." Damon shook his head, really lost in this conversation.  
"Look, Lena. Whatever you pick will be fine. I thought this was supposed to be a little thing."

"It is! I just want it to be nice." Her lips turned up into a smile as she fingered the supposed frilly edges of the white blossom in her hand, almost bubbly with it. This was her spare-time investment while he was gone. Not every time that he got a chance to call her, but close, she wanted an opinion on something for their tiny ceremony. Last time, it was whether they should have chicken or roast and if rice made it too heavy a meal. Crazy shit. Women evidently lived for this kind of stuff.

"I like the white one." He cracked a smile at her, and she grinned back like some little flattered schoolgirl.

"Good choice, handsome." She carefully dropped both flowers into a vase behind her on a table, and he could instantly tell she wasn't at home.

"At Bonnie's still?"

"I'm babysitting Marie while Jeremy and Bonnie have a day to themselves," she spurted rather snootily. "But I may or may not." She knocked out her uppity voice and lowered her tone, feeling a little guilty for snapping. "Either way, I'm fine. Really." A voice somewhere behind him, and he checked his watch.

"Look, babe. I'll try to do this again soon. Alright? I've got to go."

"I love you."

"You too, Gorgeous."

The screen blanked as he winked at her. As Elena closed the computer, she felt a little better. These regular video chats gave her a little something to look forward to during the weeks. Almost too much sometimes. But she liked having some kind of contact with him now. Before, it was once a month or so. Now it was once a week, sometimes every two. Probably because he was stationary. But she was grateful, nonetheless. She started gathering up the splay of overrun from her binder, trying to find some kind of organization for it, but in the end settled for just shutting it. As she stood, a business card weathered from scribblings and being held and handled landed lazily on the carpet, face up to expose the number to the congressman's office. Of course, it wasn't a direct line. Elena had dialed it what seemed like every day for a month to the point that she had it memorized. Yet, after so much diligence, she hadn't yet made contact with him. The first few days she was told to contact someone else- a Army recruiter, someone associated with the army- and learn about the deployment system. Her favorite, recommended last week, was to find an "army wives" club of some sort for moral support. At that point, she had to hang up to keep from strangling the secretary through the phone. She didn't need support. She needed help- from the government. Yes, she knew that was like pulling teeth, but she couldn't yank Damon from the army and expect to get away with it. If she could just get him on the phone for five minutes, that would be all she needed.

As soon as she stuffed the laptop under the edge of the couch, she heard keys landing on the countertop and a voice call her name. She sat up, taking Marie's empty bottle with her as she started for the kitchen.

"Hey, you two. Back already?" Bonnie smiled at Elena as Jeremy unloaded bags in heaps off his arms.

"Yeah, thank god. Any longer and I'd be filing bankruptcy," he chuckled as bags of baby clothes landed on the floor. Bonnie rolled her eyes, picking up another that had groceries in it.

"/Puh-lease/. Don't act like you didn't have some involvement in this. The Children's Place stuff is not all my fault," she jabbed back matter-of-factly as she pulled tequila from one of the highest cabinets. She grinned over at Elena, lowering her voice. "He found her six outfits. Precious." And Elena wasn't quite sure if she meant the clothes or him. She laughed.

"So on the way home, I called Matt and Rebekah and they're coming for celebratory drinks. She's officially in town now and we're going to help her feel welcome. Not to mention she's gotten a position at the hospital."

"She's a nurse?" Bonnie guffawed almost.

"Uh, no. Better. Pediatrics. I about croaked when I found out." Elena's eyes bugged.

"You didn't know? She was at that brunch!"

"Well she said she worked at a hospital. I just /assumed/ it was as a nurse."

"Boy, did you assume wrong," Elena snorted.

"Either /way/," Bonnie snipped, "She's coming over and tomorrow Jeremy's going to help Matt move her in. Aren't you, baby?" Jeremy sort of glared at the back of Bonnie's head as she started mixing margaritas in a bowl a few feet away, a constant grin slathered on her face.

"You're lucky I love you. The game's on, you know." Elena bit her lip in effort to not laugh, earning herself a stink eye, too.

"Awe, Jere. It'll be okay. There's always DVR."  
"Not the same," he muttered and dropped a bag of cheese defeatedly into the drawer of the fridge.

A few hours later, Matt and Rebekah finally arrived. Elena had just finished sweeping off the patio, silently wondering how it would look set for the wedding on occasion. It was latticed, vines of flowers crawling up the trellises and hanging so lazily from their stems. Tiny lights wove around poles and gave off a warm glow, the perfect setting for a warm summer night like this. In the middle of an array of chairs was a fire pit, and flames were slowly growing as it grew hotter. Elena sat just as Bonnie brought out a pitcher and five salted glasses, which Rebekah lit up for.

"God, I haven't had a margarita in ages," she gushed, purely excited for such a simple drink. "At least a real one. Most are out of a bottle—not even worth the hangover really."

"I'm a little bit of a cook, so I like to dabble in a little of all of it. No shortcutting for me." Bonnie began pouring, and when she came to Elena's glass, from a different pitcher. Elena huffed a little, feeling left out.

"Sorry." She waved a hand at her.

"It's okay. Give me nine months. I'll be needing one to stay sane." She laughed at the thought, knowing it could very well be true.

"You're pregnant?" Rebekah chimed, "Congratulations! How far along?" Elena tried to add it up in her head, but she really was lost.

"Two months? I'm not exactly sure." She sipped on her drink before continuing.

"Your first?" Elena tensed a little, but shook her head. Beside her Bonnie was watching, almost as if she wondered what she might do. Quickly she veered the subject.

"Bonnie tells me you're a pediatrician."

"Yes!" Rebekah lit up. Blonde curls bouncing with her excited nod. "I am, and I'm so excited to be working in a smaller hospital. And in such a lovely town. Mystic Falls is…is charming the right word?"

"Well, you could say that," Jeremy laughed. "Come back when you've lived here all your life."

"I think the best part of it is that I'll be closer to my family. I have a brother, Kol, who lives a few miles from here, but he's deployed at the moment." Elena blinked.

"Kol Mikaelson?"

"Uh huh. Oh, I'm sorry. You know me as Gerard. That's my—well, we won't get into that. But my maiden name is Mikaelson. I'm divorced. But you know my brother?" Elena's jaw about dropped in surprise.

"Damon left out on the same platoon as he did about a month ago. They're friends." Rebekah coughed.

"Bless you. I'm sorry. He isn't the best one to have." On that Elena could agree, but she wouldn't tell it to her face.

"He's better than he was but—won't delve into that, but he has gotten better. He calls me now. Occasionally." She gave a smile, then took a long swig of her drink.

"Small world," Elena nodded, sneaking a peek at the clock on her phone. 445. She set the glass on the table and rose.

"Excuse me. I need to make a phone call." Elena escaped back into the house, finding the number in her phone for what seemed like the thousandth time. It rang and rang, and finally the same woman answered that had every time before.

"Congressman's office. How may I help you?" she chirped.

"Hello, I'm the one who called about—" But the woman cut her off, that bright tone now replaced with one of irritation.

"Look, Miss, I'm recommending you to seek some sort of help. I understand that the deployment of a spouse is stressful, but there's simply nothing that the congressman can do."

"Just let me talk to him. Please. That's all I'm asking of you."

"He's a very busy man," she protested almost degradingly, and it struck on Elena's nerves.

"Okay, I understand that. Really I do. And I understand he was on vacation before. He's running a district. But I need his help. Is that so hard to get?"

"Ma'am, I know you're upset, but I've told you numerous times there's not anything that can be done. I'm going to ask that you /please/ don't call again." The line clicked and went dead. What a slap in the face.

"God damn it!" She hissed. The phone clattered against the wooden table as she dropped it. She wanted to throw things. Break a window. Something. She buried her face in her hands, trying to keep it together. What the hell now? She was banned? Her eyes burned, hormones wanting to make her just ugly cry for hours. But she wasn't about to.

"Is..everything okay in here?" Elena turned, seeing Rebekah in the doorway from the living room. She held an empty pitcher in one hand and had obviously heard at least three quarters of the whole thing.

"Fine," Elena unintentionally snapped, taking a regrounding breath.

"Anything I can do? You sound…stressed out."

"It's really complicated. Can't get help from people—it's like a /literal/ act of Congress." Rebekah furrowed a blonde brow as she found the second pitcher in the freezer, leaving the first in the bare sink.

"Wait. Are you really trying to /contact Congress?/ What kind of issue do you have that needs that?"

"My fiancé. He was deployed, but he shouldn't have been—it's just /complicated/." Rebekah cocked her head, and Elena realized that her statement could make her come off as crazy.

"He has amnesia."

"And they took him into war?"

"As stupid as it sounds, yes," Elena muttered.

"He shouldn't be out there." She was appalled. As she should be.

"I know. I just worry a lot, and he'll probably be fine." Her own attempt at consoling herself, but it failed miserably. Rebekah glanced down to the pale mixture in the canister, and stirred it for a moment. Elena could hear a giggle from Marie in the next room.  
"I might can help you with that, Elena," she said cautiously, as if she were afraid of her. "I might or might not have a string." Elena gaped at her. /In Congress?/  
"How?"

"Well, the congressman. He's my brother."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Elijah. /Mikaelson?/ Not exactly a common name." /Oh./ She was dumbfounded on either the fact that she was so blind to that or the fact that she was willing to talk to him for her. Perhaps both. Actually, very much both.

"I—"

"Give me until Monday. I'll try to have you in his office. He's very generous, and our father was in the military. I'm sure he'd be willing to listen." She smiled, as if to show this was a friendly gesture. But really Elena felt like she owed her her life. Because even if he said no, at least she'd felt like she had tried if he heard what she had to say.

"Oh my God. /Thank you./ Thank you, thank you. I've been at this for a month."

"Well, it didn't help that two of those he spent in Turks with his whatever-she-is. But I'll get your number from Matt and let you know. Okay?" She picked the glass pitcher up and smiled at her and simply walked back out to the patio. Elena rose and followed, feeling a little better that this somewhat stranger had just turned into her saving grace.


	13. Thank You

Elena's alarm started to scream in her ears, startling her from her peaceful sleep. God, why? She stopped the noise and clambered from her bed. Her dream rang loudly in her mind, every detail there as if she lived it. And she did only months before. She looked to the ring mounted on her hand, right where Damon had left it. A symbol of his loyalty to her, of his love, and his intent to be with her for the rest of their days. And never would she take it off. Whatever became of this. She pulled herself from the confines of her warm bed and quickly made it. The house was empty, silent all but her movements. Another day. She shuddered, folding herself into her robe and trying to evade the chill that still somehow found itself into her house. Hung from the doorframe was the black pencil skirt and white blouse she'd laid out the night before. The most formal thing she had that wasn't too small now, much like the rest of her closet. While the swell in her abdomen might not be noticeable to anyone else, it was to her. The thought gave her her first smile of the day, and she sat at the vanity as she did. Today would be a good day, because she was sure that something good was going to happen, at some point. Today was the day she had prayed for a month for, and it was really a /great/ day. She didn't want to be negative. She was optimistic. Hopeful. Almost positive that this would be what would help Damon. Help her. She told herself that, if anything, she was trying. That was all she could do. And hard enough, it might prove rewarding. God, did she hope so.

Somewhere, an air conditioner kicked into cooling the waiting room off more than it already was. It was silent, all but the sound of the occasional phone call and the shuffling of the papers on the secretary's desk. She would clear her throat, like she had something stuck in it. But to Elena it sounded like she was doing it in her direction, though she knew otherwise. She sat in this lobby, in the seat of an old Victorian parlor chair that looked like it had seen better days. She would shift in it, and it would squeak in obstinate reprove, making Elena that much more hesitant to budge a muscle even though the skirt she wore was making her feel uncomfortable as hell. Every breath felt like she was expanding like a balloon. Another breath, another notch tighter.

Rebekah had called Elena back the day after the margarita party, first thing in the morning after the get-together they had. It still baffled Elena that she just got Mikaelson to agree with a wave of her hand (it seemed.). If Elena wanted a decent bit of time, she was told, she could come in at 8 to make her case. It thrilled her. She'd spent the night before gathering and organizing every file she had on Damon and his health history, from his enlistment to his Purple Heart, down to the concussion and the wounded leg and the latest recommendation that he not be involved overseas anymore. It was pages and pages, and by the time she'd finished it all, she felt she had a solid case to present to him. Now, as she tapped a finger on the portfolio, waiting for his door to open, she wondered if it was substantial. She was in the waiting room of a government official, someone who could validate whether or not this was a case he could or would further up. Was all this enough? It had to be because it was all she had, and he was standing in the doorway she'd not even heard open, beckoning her in. She felt numb with nervousness, like her fingers were made of rubber. She held the files to her, took a breath, and followed him into the next room.

He sat at a broad, wooden desk, flourishing a palm in invitation to sit across from him. She did, and was thankful to find that this chair wasn't squeaky at all. Mikaelson watched her as she primly laid her files on his desk, opened them, and pulled them out of their organized sanctuary. She had highlighted and tabbed sections of almost every page, being sure that everything important was there for him to take into account.

"You came prepared, Miss Salvatore," he noted fondly as he took them from her.

"I wanted to give my best statement," she replied. He could hear the tiny quake of nervousness, but she didn't let it reflect at all in her demeanor.

"And what is your statement?"

"That my fiancé, Damon Salvatore, isn't medically fit for combat overseas, Mr. Mikaelson."

"Please, call me Elijah. I appreciate the formality, but I want us to discuss this a little more casually." He skimmed the pages, and Elena could see his eyes land on every tab she'd applied. "I understand. I've had, and have, family that serve. It can be hard at times."

She nodded. "It is, Mis—Elijah. Believe me, I know."

"How many times has Damon been deployed?" He leaned back in his heavy leather chair, steepling his fingers as he waited.

"Four. This is his fifth. Afghanistan, Iraq. He was a combat soldier all four times."

"Every time?" Elena found a page, tabbed with markers at the edge of the page to point out every date, deployment to return, every extension he'd taken. He glanced over it, but turned his attention back to Elena.

"He's served diligently."

"He loved the Army. I mean, I guess he still does."

"Why do you think he isn't fit to serve anymore, Elena?" Again, she returned to her pile of papers, but Elijah didn't approve. He held out a hand to signal her to stop, and she did, looking confused. Had she offended him? She was suddenly terrified.

"I don't want to see papers right now, Elena. I want to hear it from you, and I want to understand your side. As a wife."

And so Elena delved into the story of the last three months of her life; of how Damon lost his memory and had to relearn the last seven years of his life in a matter of weeks, and even now he was still learning. As she recounted all of this, she couldn't help but be proud of the astounding progress that Damon had made in such a small space of time. They both had. Elijah seemed intrigued at such a story, pausing her in her sentences to be sure he heard her correctly, writing down some random things. Almost as if this were a shrink session instead of a proposal to a congressman.

"I don't think he should have gone either, Elena," Elijah stated as she finished her speech, feeling exhausted by the end. "I think that this is a misuse of communication, and I don't think you or your husband should have to suffer for it."

"I don't want it to sound as if I don't appreciate the Armed Forces. I do. I just—I don't feel that he's been treated fairly."

"I understand that. Especially since you've told the facts to me. I'm sorry about this. Truly."

"So can you help me?" He didn't answer right away. It made Elena recall the pep talk she'd given herself the night before: If this didn't succeed, at least she had tried. And that's all you can do.

"He has served diligently," he repeated, sitting up in his chair. He reached across to her pile of paperwork, sliding it across the mahogany surface to him as if to revise it. "As have you." She looked at him confused. What had he said?

"As a wife of a military man, I see you just as much servants for our country as I do the soldiers themselves. You let your husband leave you to jump into the line of fire to keep us safe. And he may not even return home alive. That's a sacrifice as much as any. You're one of the strongest I've ever met, Elena. Half your relationship he's been at work for us. I commend you for that, and for contacting me about this. I want to help you, and I'll do everything I can to do so. But please, don't take this as a promise."

"This means so much, Elijah. Thank you."

"I couldn't say no to the little bit that Rebekah told me over the phone. I felt like I should listen. I don't regret it. I have a brother overseas. It's not easy wondering about him all the time."

"Kol?" Elijah rose an intrigued brow.

"You know him?" Elena rolled her eyes and replied a little flatly,

"Yeah. He's more Damon's friend than mine."

"Well, I'm sorry. Either way." He chuckled a little and stood. "I'll have Katherine call you in a few days. Alright?" Elena nodded, tears of excitement starting somewhere behind her eyes. She took his outstretched hand and shook it firmly, gratefully, and said the only words she could manage to form.

"Thank you."

It took her half of the trip home to remember to call anyone. But of all people, she knew one that would be the most excited to hear such news. She hadn't even told him about Rebekah or the favor she'd done; she hadn't had the time. She was glad she didn't immediately receive a no, but that Elijah wanted to help. And she hoped like hell he would be able to do what she asked of him. She tapped on numbers as she came to a stoplight, and the phone rang. And rang. And rang. It felt like an eternity before it finally stopped and someone finally spoke on the other end.

"Stefan Salvatore speaking," he finally said, formally, like he did when he was on business. Sometimes he didn't even sound himself when he spoke that way.

"Stefan! I'm so glad you answered!" she exclaimed, about to come out of her driver's seat with excitement.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing! I have to tell you. Stefan, I talked to Elijah Mikaelson." Pause.

"The /congressman?/"

"Yes! And—he's going to try to discharge Damon." There was silence on the other end of the line. He was either stunned or the line had died. She wasn't sure which.

"What?"

"Yes, Stefan! He's going to try!" Elena's eyes were glistening with tears now. She didn't want to sound so excited, but she was. Just being able to get this far was a milestone. "He said no promises, but God, Stefan, I think we're really close."

"Elena, that's—wow. I think you're possibly the best girlfriend ever and you're not even mine." He chuckled. "When will we know? Have you told Damon?"

"In a few days," she answered, "But please don't say anything. I don't want to get his hopes up."

"No word from me. But do keep me posted." She could hear the joy in his voice too.

"I will," she nodded as she parked in the drive. Bonnie was just getting home herself, and she spotted Elena as she left her SUV.

"And Elena: thank you," he said softly. She wished he were there to hug him, but all she could do was smile.


	14. Progress

The days were long in the bunker, or whatever it was called. Thankfully, Branson had removed him from any missions outside of the walls of their camp. He was strictly a worker, doing grunt work to make him look busy. About twice a week, he'd find Branson and ask her, "Any news?" And she would reply with a "No, Salvatore. I'm sorry," and a saddened look as she went about her business. It was frustrating to the point he really wanted to scream. He didn't understand why he was here. He wanted to be back on American soil. He ached to see his family, Elena. His weeks brightened during the one call he got to make almost each week, and he didn't care what they talked about; as long as he heard her voice for just a few minutes. However long. And now as she sat on the other side, he was surprised to see she wasn't armed with her planning binder or flowers to choose from. She was bright-eyed. Excited for something. And when he'd so curiously asked why, she would breeze past onto another subject.

"I think I have a name, but I'm kind of on the fence," she said as she pushed away an empty bowl of ice cream she'd been eating on since they'd connected. Damon rose a brow as he sat back in the rickety folding chair.

"Mm. That look on your face tells me to be open-minded with this," he chuckled. She sniffed.

"Open-minded," she blew through her lips as she rolled her eyes before going on. "I think I like the name Lorna, for a girl." Damon's face screwed up in some weird expression that was what Elena thought might be disgust.

"Like the Lorna Doone cookies? Babe."

"What? Ugh. No. You just ruined it," she laughed. "I didn't even think of that."

"You're welcome," he smirked. Elena scratched out what he assumed to be a name on the paper beside her, and she ran pen down it. A list? He was ready for this. Granted, he'd thought of a few, but he wasn't totally sure they'd go over with her either. She was braver. She'd throw the weirdest names out there, just to see if he was paying attention he guessed. Lorna had to be one of those names. He opened his mouth to say something, but as he began to speak he heard his name from somewhere outside the tent.

"SALVATORE! I NEED YOU, STAT!" Was that Branson?

"Shit. Babe, gotta go." She looked a little crestfallen that their call was so short, but he really couldn't help it. "I'll call you when I can. I promise."

"I love you," she smiled, that sweet and gorgeous smile that made him weak even three thousand miles away. He grinned back. God, he was ready to be back in Virginia.

"Right back at you, Gorgeous Gilbert." And he shut the laptop, ending their call. He sprung out of the chair and ran out the tent, seeing Branson in the next. She grabbed his arm as their eyes met, flinging him behind her into the sanctuary of the canvas walls. He skidded against the earthen floor, cursing as he made contact with a rest cot. As he got back up, he saw Lexi was baring a rifle. Her face was in a pinched expression, and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. She sunk back into the shadows of the tent as Damon cussed at her.

"Shut up. We have a situation on our hands. An enemy man broke into the camp. Don't know where he got it, but he's wearing a US uniform. He's running around camp, and he's armed. I need you to cover me, I'll cover you." She reached into an open crate, fishing out a gun for him. A rifle, by the size of it. /Shit./ Was he ready for that? Really?

"Come on, Salvatore. Sooner we get him out of here, the better." She tossed him the gun. He caught it, but he didn't bother to look at it. He was too busy watching a pack of men thunder down the dusty aisle, baring guns and one even manning a shield, dirt flying up in clouds as they went by. They hooped and hollered like a pack of savages. By no means were they snipers. He looked just as Branson nodded at him, and he returned it as they both slipped out the door. Damon had no clue what he was doing, but he could only try his best, he reminded himself. Other soldiers were here and there, but most were hiding, waiting to see if he would pass in flee, giving them a quick chance to nab him. Damon didn't know what the hell to look for. If he was wearing their uniform, there was no telling who he was amongst any of them. Or if he was even still on campus. Lexi was stiff with alert, moving cat-like down the rows of tents. People were shouting from every direction but you could see none. Damon did what he was told: He stayed a few feet behind Branson, on the alert. He could see why he signed up for this: It was fucking exhilarating. His heart was in his throat, adrenaline singed in his veins, and it was a damn wicked thrill. A round of shots rang out somewhere nearby. They were deafening, and it rattled him just enough to make him hesitate. Someone ran past him, into the left of the intersection of tents where he stood. Lexi was gone, and he was at a loss of what to do. He moved up against the flimsy tent wall. He couldn't hear her, or she was hiding. He'd looked away for a second. Finally, he glanced to the weapon Lexi had armed him with. Heavy, complex. The reason it'd felt so familiar- this was the gun from his nightmares. The one he loaded and shot like it was nothing. He could see his hands changing magazines, moving parts of the gun, but he couldn't do it now. He was like stone in his place against the makeshift edifice. He wanted to squeeze the trigger, just to see how it felt to fire it, if it was as true as the nightmares told him. If it brought as much pleasure. But chills flew over his skin when he heard her. /Carol./

"Salvatore! SALVATORE!"

She didn't finish. She always told him to get down. Where was she? But he had to remind himself. This wasn't then. Damon shook himself out of his stupor as Lexi's voice rang out again. Somewhere some men were yelling almost excitedly, but he wasn't sure if it was in victory or not. He uprooted himself and sprung back into action, turning to follow the sound of his name being called. As he started to run, he saw a soldier coming in his direction. He had a larger gun he'd yet to see here, but it took a moment for it to register. As the troop got closer, Damon could see his features. Ruddy red skin filthy with sand glistened in the sun. Dark eyes filled with anger and determination were fiery as the intruder rose his gun. People raved somewhere-not here, but close. Their voices grew louder, more legible. "Shoot him, soldier!" he heard someone say. "God damnit, blow his head off!" Bullets whirred. He didn't know how they hadn't hit him yet. He was frozen, registering all of it. The guy, the sound of bullets. He felt them hit the ground, the impact reverberating through his boots into the soles of his feet. And he was stuck again in that dream, and this enemy that was trying to take him out now was of the same group. The same initiative. To kill all of them. And Carol was just one of many. That started a fire underneath him.

"You son of a bitch," he growled. Raising his own gun, he let it rest against his shoulder as he started to aim at the man coming closer. So close, he wasn't sure he'd hit him. He didn't know what he was doing, but he would have to make do. But before he could get his finger on the trigger, he was greeted with the metal butt end of his opponent's rifle. It plowed somewhere into his temple and, for a brief second, a metallic taste landed on his lips, but that's all he knew before the camp melted from his vision and he fell into unconsciousness.

"Whoa." Bonnie gaped at Elena's kitchen table. Instead of its normal pin-neat status it was covered in papers and magazines and only God knew what else. Elena sat in the midst of all of it, engrossed. "What are you doing?"

"I got started and didn't stop," Elena shrugged as she tossed a color palette into the trash can nearby. "I was working on baby rooms, and then I had an idea for the wedding. It kind of just went from there."

"I'm here!" a voice rang. From the kitchen door came Caroline, accompanied with a bag of what smelled like breakfast food. She sat in down in front of Elena, who dove into it immediately.

"Thanks, Care," she grinned.

"Cravings?" Bonnie rose a brow in amusement as she sat. She never saw Elena eat breakfast unless mimosas were involved. If even then.

"God, yes. I don't even like sausage, but—" She didn't finish, in way, but she picked up a patty off of a biscuit with a flimsy plastic fork and began to eat. She rolled her eyes in what Bonnie assumed was pure delight, laughing only because she completely understood.

"So why am I here again? And what's all this?"

"Elena wants to ask you something," Caroline beamed as Elena still ate. "And I think it's amazing and awesome and perfect, but she needs your say so first and also your husband. Oh! I've gotta call Stefan, too."

"..what?" Bonnie laughed a little. "What needs my approval and my husband? I don't quite understand." Next to her, Elena wadded up the wrapper of her now-devoured sausage and biscuit and tossed it back into the bag.

"Okay," she started, smiling with excitement almost as much as Caroline was. "So, firstly, I want you two to be my maids of honor." Bonnie and Caroline both lit up.

"What?!"

"You guys are my best friends. I've known you since—ever. It only makes since." She smiled back at both of them, delighted.  
"Of course we'll be your maids of honor, 'Lena! Or, I will, at least," Bonnie beamed.

"Me too!" Caroline chimed in. "Oh my god. Everyone's getting married. Where did high school go?" All three laughed, agreeing.

"You're not far, it seems, Care Bear," Bonnie teased. "I've heard about you and Lockwood." She narrowed her eyes playfully, but Caroline blushed.  
"Elena!"

"I had to tell her, Care! She was worried you weren't coming around as much."

"Well, either way, it's complicated. Don't get any ideas." She looked away, which implied much differently, but the other girls just exchanged knowing looks and let the subject go.

"So what's the other part of this whole thing, Elena?" Bonnie started.

"Damon and I met at your house. It was the Christmas party. And I wanted to have the wedding there. It's not a lot of people—us, Damon's parents, Matt and Rebekah maybe. I'd like to use your garden. If that's okay with you. And I'd like to do it as a welcome home for Damon."

"What? Elena, that's—"

"Amazing, right? He'd never see it coming," Caroline grinned.

"I'd like Stefan and Jeremy to pick him up at the airport, bring him to the house. We say our vows, and the rest be for him and his last time coming back." Elena was purely excited and she was so invested in this idea, Bonnie was in no position to say no. Because, even though she wasn't really about surprise parties herself, thought this might be the greatest wedding ever.

"Elena, that is—wow. I'll pass it by Jeremy, but I'm 100% sure that he'll say yes." Elena smiled.

"I'm glad to see you so happy, Elena. You deserve it," Caroline smiled. "Not to mention you have a baby coming, that's just the icing on the cake. Which we need to decide on. And a dress. Oh my gosh. There's so much to do!" Elena laughed.

"Calm down, Care. It's the decorations that are the important part. The dinner menu is set. The dress is…questionable, but I'm going to make it work."

"You got a dress? When?" Elena smiled, proud of herself.

"Recycling. But it's only been worn once, and I tried it on a couple of weeks ago and it was fine. As long as the baby doesn't decide to have a growth spurt."

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"I just want it to be perfect is all," she smiled. "This is his last return home and I just want it to be the best."


	15. Send Off

Okay. So, I want to start by saying this is obnoxiously, horribly, obtrusively, insanely, awfully completely overdue. I wasn't aware until I was browsing through that I'd not updated this story in SO LONG. I've been trying to get started, but I've been so swamped with school, newspaper editing (school), leaving an old job (yay!), getting my new one in writing (double yay!) that the time has just flown by sickeningly fast. However, I'm glad to say that this is me, saying that I'll be aiming to update regularly for this story until it reaches its end. However, back in November, I did do a one shot Delena based on a certain heart-shattering, aching album that crooned to me for hours (yes, it was Adele. How did you know?) until I had my first-ever one shot. I was satisfied. I mean, I cried and hated myself a little, so I was happy. LOL. So if you're interested, look for "When We Were Young" in my stories list. I'm sorry I've been negligent with Return, but I'll make it worth the wait. Thank you for reading and baring with me, guys!

It was so quiet in this room. No people talking, no outside noises. It was serenity. Something that seemed kind of rare, like he couldn't find it anywhere. Even in his head. He recalled the whizzing of bullets and the firing of guns all too easily. The mundane routine of lacing up a pair of boots, folding down his sheets, and making everything pin-neat would be his next task as he rose with the morning sun to begin his day. Elena thought he was just teasing when he was messy around her, but really he just wanted to slack off a little. His feet met the ground and he groaned some, feeling slightly hungover as he came into an upright position. No one was here. He was alone, his things gone, and the room barely lit with sunlight.  
Was this the infirmary?  
Wait. Damn. His name thundered in his ears, destroying what peace there was and sending a shooting pain through his head. He grimaced as Branson came into view. She'd been the culprit. What did she want?  
"Morning!" she chirped, and he threw his hands up at her, shushing her as he put his hands over his ears, but to no avail.

"Damn it, Branson, shut up! You sound like a heard of fucking elephants," he hissed, covering his face.

"I'm glad to see you awake," she started, much quieter this time as she came to a halt a few feet away from him. "I need to tell you that headache is worth it."

"Are you sure?" he grumbled. He laid a hand over his eyes to block out the light that was suddenly beginning to make him nauseous.

"Your gun strap caught the camp infiltrator's ankle when he was trying to run away. Knocked him down. Mikealson took him out. Good job."

Oh yes. That scenario. It was all coming back to him now. The gun, the ass end of the other guy's gun—and here he was.

"No problem. But next time, I don't plan to be a dead body during the whole thing." He laughed some, though his head was really killing him. It felt like someone was driving nails through it. He kid of wished Branson would take a hike so he could try sleeping for another three days.

"I do have some news for you, though. And I'm glad you're awake. Otherwise I would have had to call your wife. This is day two you've been out cold." Damon shook his head. Two days?

"Do /not/ tell her. That's more for her to worry about and she's got enough on her plate right now. I'm fine. Nothing to freak over."  
"I'm not!" she answered quickly, "But, I do have to tell you: There was a call that was for you a couple days ago. I don't know what happened, but they're sending you back to the States."

His headache suddenly disappeared and was replaced with shock. Back home? He looked to Branson, the notorious hardass, and she was /smiling./

"You better not be fucking with me," he said deadpan.

"No, I'm not. You leave tomorrow. They asked for you but you were checked out." Damon laughed thick, grasping this. Really? Out of this hell hole? Home. With Elena. God, he couldn't wait to tell her this.

Tossing another empty food bag into the trash by her feet, Elena sighed, worn out from the early morning's activities. Two hours of filing and somewhat teaching Caroline the ropes of her desk job had all but wiped her out. This morning alone she discovered that her baby body this round was going to be tougher on her. She wanted to eat constantly and she was gaining—both of which she'd avoided the last time. She tried to ignore the weight gain, but that craving for biscuits at noon was hard to buck. Usually, it didn't come to fruition, considering that by lunch time, breakfast was over. But the days she got it, she was dutiful on pigging out.

"You know it's a boy when you eat lots of salt, right?" Caroline would prod as she flipped through a mama-to-be webpage. Elena rolled her eyes. Caroline was sold on any of those old wives' tales. She was not.

"I'll know what it is when I go to the doctor's care. Those tales are bogus. I ate a lot of salt with Mary Jo, too."

"Yeah, but this time you're gaining weight around your front. That's another sign for boys." Elena almost choked on her drink.

"Excuse me?! I'm not gaining /that/ much." She shifted in her seat, wondering if she was really not noticing or if Care was just picking out the worst tales to tell her.

"'Lena, I wouldn't try to get back in that LBD for a /long/ time if I were you." Elena huffed.

"Forget you, Care. I—" The computer on her desk started to chime and Damon's name popped up on the screen. She drug the monitor over to her and answered it. Damon popped up on the screen, a smile as big as she'd ever seen it on his face.

"Hey!" Caroline waved behind her. Damon chuckled.  
"Morning, Blondie." He shifted his blue gaze to her. "Morning, babe."

"Morning, sweetheart. How are you?"

"I'm doing great, actually," he beamed, peering down at something on the table before him. "So, I got something today, and I think you might be interested." Elena rose a brow, and she felt Caroline lean over her shoulder.  
"Well?" she snapped as Damon kept shuffling whatever it was on the table. She knew he was purposefully leaving them hanging, but there wasn't anything she could do but wait.

"Hold on! I'm working on it. Can't read this damn print."

"Old man," Elena tittered, earning her a steely glare. After another few seconds and a testy sigh from Caroline, Damon held up a piece of paper, a letter, and pointed at a specific line. He pulled it closer to the camera so they could see, and as it focused, she read it aloud:

_Dear Mr. Salvatore,_

_I write you in regard to your current deployment overseas. It was brought to light of your recent medical history concerning retrograde amnesia. Considering that the amount of memory loss extends to points that erase the basic training you received, I have achieved in having enforced your honorary discharge from the US Army effective immediately. You will be escorted back to American land no later than one week after this letter's delivery. On behalf of the country and its citizens, we thank you for your years as a dedicated soldier of the United States of America. _

_Signed, _

_Elijah Mikealson_

Elena was slack-jawed, amazed. He'd done it. Mikealson had gotten him discharged, just like he said. She was so expecting the other outcome. Her heart sank in pure relief. She owed him, his sister. She wanted to call them right now and just gush and kiss their feet for doing such a thing.

"I'm coming home, babe!" Damon raved. "They're putting me on a plane tomorrow morning!"

"Oh my god. He did it!" Elena was close to tears she was so overjoyed. Caroline squealed in her ear, throwing her arms around her shoulders and squeezing her so hard that, for a moment, breathing was impossible.

"I'm so happy, Damon! You're coming home!"

"For good this time!" he added, stuffing all his papers back into an envelope. "I can't wait to see you, Elena. You and Care, and Bonnie. And Stefan. That bastard hasn't answered my calls in a month."

"He's in New York trying to get his deal worked out, babe. Cut him some slack," she smiled, brushing her cheek. "So you'll be here tomorrow?" Her mind began to reel. This was it. This was her chance.

"Damn right, babe. I've missed you." She grinned, kissing two fingers and then flashing them to the screen.

"I love you, and I'll see you soon. /Very/ soon."

"You, too, Gorgeous. I love you."

"Go pack your bags, Damon Salvatore. We're ready to see you here again," Caroline chimed in, reminding Elena she was still there on her shoulder, watching and in tears just as much as she was.

"I'm out. See you pretty ladies later." Elena put up a hand in a wave as the signal from the other side died, and she turned to Caroline.

"We /have/ to throw a party. A 'you're never leaving us again' welcome home party!"

"That's the best one yet," Elena grinned. "With all his favorites."

"We'll have everything—cake, beer—whatever. Make a list?" Elena leaned over her bag to seek out a notepad that was buried down in it somewhere. But as she found it and passed it to Caroline, she froze at the sight of the bulky, overflowing trapperkeeper that was hunkered down in her work tote.

"We've got to call everyone," Elena started, flipping the binder of wedding plans. A cut out in the shape of a baby bed floated to the ground as she landed it on the table. "The florist, the baker, the officiator. Bon, Matt, Stefan." Caroline looked at her, puzzled.

"What? Why?"

"I know what his welcome home party is going to be. It's what he's wanted for ages now: our wedding."

"Wedding?! Elena, wait. Let's think about this. He'll be here in hours. There's no way we can put this together. Not how you want it."

"No, Care. We can. I promise." Dealing her a stack of order forms, she began to blow Caroline away.

"What in the—are these completed?" She flipped through each one, reading her friend's careful, pin-neat writing on each page. "Elena—"

"Just take them where they need to go and they'll do the rest. It's not much. The florist and the baker can have it ready by tomorrow afternoon. And the officiator is…relatively new. Not popular. I picked him for that reason." Caroline could only stare, dumbfounded. Elena laughed.

"Care. Let's go. Call Bonnie, I'll start cleaning—"

"Oh no. No no no. You're not cleaning. You're pregnant." She shoved the papers back into her hands. "/You/ do the calling. I'll start cleaning and when Bonnie gets here and has her heart attack, we'll start on the rest. Gosh, 'Lena, you're insane." Elena only grinned, because she knew this was it. They'd talked about it for months, before he left and after. Her greeting to him was usually, "So for the wedding…" followed by some myriad of options for something. But at this point, none of it was going to matter. No fancy dinners, no huge guest lists like Damon insisted she deserved. She just wanted them and their closest friends, a cake and a dance. A new life together—what better way to start it?


	16. One Last Time

_AN: Short note: I'm going to be posting these last chapters in spurts. I don't want to leave you guys hanging, but I also don't want to post them all at one time. It doesn't feel right either way, but I like how these work. Enjoy! 3_

The whole plane ride home, Damon had been pinching himself. Not literally, of course, but he was still in disbelief that in the past 72 hours, his one wish had come true. As stupid as that sounded, he prayed like hell to whoever was listening to send him home. He was insane, he had decided. He'd seen more bloodshed and heard more taps than he'd ever wished. He thought the Carol thing was horrible, but it was easily just the tip of the iceberg. At least she hadn't suffered.

Now, he stood at the edge of the Bonnie's yard, luggage hidden against the house. He was supposed to wait for Stefan, but he didn't have the patience. He was ready to be back home. See his friends, his family. /Stay./ It was overdue. He'd decided. So instead, he'd gotten a cab from the airport.

People went in and out, but they were just a little too far for him to tell who they were besides busy. What the hell were they doing? He crept around the backside of the house, finding Bonnie just as occupied as the rest. She was toting a basket loaded with flowers and he watched as she set them in the center of the table and accompanied them with a pair of white candles. She was dressed, from the curls in her jet-black hair to the fancy burgundy dress she was wearing. She bustled about the patio, and in the short time he watched her, she had transformed the back porch from that normal hang-out place into something out of a magazine. The whole time, she was so invested and distracted by her work, she didn't notice him standing so close, waiting on a chance he could sneak past her into the house. After a few long minutes, she emptied her basket and stood back to admire her work. She moved a chair, mumbled something, then went inside, closing the door behind her. He sprinted the best he could to the patio, slipping past the rearranged furniture and then inside. But Damon paused as he saw the bouquet on the table. The soft white petals looked almost like wads of paper on a stem. Those flowers—those were the same flowers Elena had shown him just a few days before. Peonies…wasn't that what she called them? /Was this a wedding?/ No, not /a/ wedding. /The/ wedding. Damon stood a little taller and chuckled to himself, that much more anxious to see Elena. She never failed to surprise him. But now it was his turn for once.

He could hear the chattering of Caroline and Sheila in the dining room, the metallic clatter of silverware as they set the table, and just as Caroline turned he shot out of her line of sight, too- enough so that she paused in the middle of her jabber to look. He quickly found the room that was Elena's second home and let himself in, shutting the door as quietly as possible behind him. It was semi-dark in the bedroom as the sung began to set. An array of mascara, eyeshadows, and lipsticks were strewn over the old dresser's surface on the opposite side of the room. A pair of shoes sat neatly in front of the closed closet, and what he assumed to be her dress hung from the wall trim ledge, covered in a black bag. In front of it, she sat in the center of the bed, legs folded beneath her, and fussed with her hair. He heard her mutter as she pinched a lock of hair into a steaming roller with a pin, then lovingly nursed the pad of a burnt finger as she let it fall against her head. He grinned, watching her silently.

"Oh, thank God you're here, Bon," she sighed, bumping the rack of rollers a little towards him. "Could you do the back? My hair's just /too/ long to reach." She held up metal clips as she let the long brown locks fall gracefully down her bare back. Licking his lips, he walked lightly across the carpet, taking the pins from her and wordlessly sliding the hot rollers into his reach.

"I'm so ready for this, Bon." Her voice radiated excitement. She began to rub what he knew was her growing belly as he carefully started wrapping her hair onto another roller. Fuck. Was he even doing this right? He longed to see it, that bump they made together, but despite how much he wanted to talk, he kept himself quiet. "Ten years ago, I never would have thought I would be here. Pregnant, again. Marrying the best man I've ever met who is /coincidentally/ Damon Salvatore." She paused, and he swore he could hear the gears turning in her mind. He wished she would go on, say more. But she suddenly laughed instead, and he heard her sniff. "What am I doing? I should be saving this for my vows."

"That's okay. I won't mind hearing it again." He clipped the last silky lock as her body went rigid and she turned, seeing him there. Brown eyes grew with excitement and she got to her knees, flinging her arms around him. He enveloped her in a hug, breathing in her scent. The feel of her skin on his was like a long lusted-after drag on a cigarette. She smelt of her everyday perfume, mixed with the stiff odor of the spray that held her hair in place. It was amazing to actually see her outside of a computer screen. It was like a different world. And to think he'd never have to leave again—it was the most glorifying thing he'd ever thought.

"You're home! Oh my gosh—you weren't supposed to be here for another two hours!" Elena was already crying, now he just made it worse.

"They let me out early. Good behavior," Damon quipped as he planted a long-awaited kiss to two painted lips, really not caring if he messed up all that makeup she had probably spent an hour putting on. She laughed, that musical, melodic sound that made his heart skip a beat each time he heard it. But there was something else he was longing to see, too. He backed away, blue eyes skipping down her covered figure to rest on her abdomen. It was cloaked in an old button up of his, so big it was hard to see it on her. Elena smiled, smoothing the fabric across herself to how him the bump that was their child. Nonexistent when he left, her belly now bulged in a beautiful way, one he remembered too fondly from what seemed like a lifetime ago. She was bigger compared to last time, he thought, gently lying a hand just below hers.  
"Girl or boy?" It was all he knew to say at the moment.

"I don't know. You weren't here, so I didn't go," she whispered, observing the wonder that was dancing in his eyes. She laid a hand atop his, gently squeezing it. She loved that look. "But now we can go." Damon's lips began to stretch into a smile again. Was now a bad time to? "I'm so glad you're home—really home."

"I know, babe," the man that would soon be her husband whispered back, kissing her cheek. "So am I."

"But," she cut in, "You need to go so I can get ready and we can get married." She began to push him away, pointing to the clock. "If you're ready in an hour, we'll do it." It was her turn to smile widely, excitedly. "Deal?" He chuckled. This was why he loved her.

"Deal, angel. An hour and you're a Salvatore. And hot damn, we're gaining a good one." And he shut the door behind him, instantly migrating to the other end of the house. He found the spare bedroom and busted in, Stefan and Jeremy just tying shoes and ties.

"What the hell?" Stefan jumped, totally untying his black dress shoe at the sight of his brother.

"Surprise!"

"No joke," Jeremy laughed. "We were supposed to come get you—" he paused to look at his watch. "Now, actually."

"Eh," Damon shrugged. "Saved you the gas. You're welcome."

"You better be damn glad I didn't drive all the way to the airport to get your ass," grinned Stefan as he rose. "Welcome home, brother!" He gathered up Damon in a tight hug, his silent way of showing how glad he was to see him in once piece.

"So. Have I been assigned a monkey suit or what? The other says if I'm ready in an hour, we can get this show on the road!" Damon rubbed his hands together, eyeing the bag that sat on the end of the bed. He pulled the tab and opened the zip, revealing his tux.

"I'm /finally/ gonna marry Elena Gilbert."


	17. Happy Endings Do Come to Those Who Wait

AN: This is it, guys. I've finally completed this story. I hope you've enjoyed it. By no means do I find it a masterpiece, but I do this for fun and to help build my writing skills. I'm also posting a bonus chapter to this that I wrote that completely encapsulates and tells about the most devastating event in Elena and Damon's life together: The Death of Mary Jo. If you want to see more from me, follow my account. I have works in progress, completed one-shots, and there is a conversion that I'm working on that I hope to have the first chapter of up before too long. Again, thanks for enduring my erratic posting and long hiatuses!

"I can't believe you're wearing /this/ dress," Bonnie laughed. "I mean, first of all, it's old as heck."

"It is not," Elena coughed. "Well, kind of. But that was five Christmases ago. Hey, I bought white because /you/ insisted on it. It was your party that you invited me to /last/ minute." She snorted as she slid into the silky fabric of the garment. She found herself forcing it a little over her belly, but she sucked in as much as she could.

"Hey! My party was awesome, you looked good, and you met Damon, so shut up." Bonnie smiled as she finally got Elena's zipper up the back. She eyed the golden alarm clock on the bedside table, seeing the second hand tick slowly by. As slow as it seemed to go, it really wasn't going slow, or fast, enough. On one hand, she had to get ready. Her hair was done, but her makeup was still questionable. She had no clue what Caroline was coordinating downstairs, but she just prayed it was going well. And not to mention she was very much nervous.

"I can't believe you're finally getting married," Bonnie said as she looked at her best friend in the mirror, adjusting the curls to rest on her shoulders just right. "I always thought you'd beat me in that race." Elena laughed.

"I don't know why. You and my brother? It was so gonna happen. You two barely got out of high school before you were buying wedding bands." Bonnie gave a "whatever" snort before going to find the shoes that matched her dress. Elena smoothed out the lacy knee-length fabric, looking at herself in the mirror. She was lucky it had a little give; it was damn close to being too small. She couldn't wait to see him, like she'd thought about a hundred-thousand times before. He would be there, waiting for her in that suit he hated but wore because she wanted him to. He'd grin, she'd smile, and she /wouldn't/ cry. But now, she didn't have to think about it, because it was happening. And it made her weak.

"You're terrified," Bonnie said from behind her as she sat a pair of white lace shoes in front of her. Elena gave a shaky laugh as if to verify she was right. "It's okay. I was too. Remember? I wanted to put it off for an hour so I could regroup and Caroline had to pep talk me? Wait. Do I need to go get her?"

"No! I mean…no. I'm—I'll get it together. Swear." Elena coughed. "No Forbes pep talks today."

"Good!" Caroline said as she came through the door, perky as ever and ready to get this going. On cue. Elena's lifesaver. "Jeremy's waiting to walk you down to Damon right now. Let's go get married!"

In the living room, a suited Jeremy held out his arm for his sister to take, giving her a taunting little smirk as she stood by his side.

"About time you joined the married life, sis," he teased as he handed her a bouquet of the white peonies that matched the ones decorating the tables and chairs. She just smiled, kind of thinking the same.

"I just took my time." She squeezed his arm in reply, seeing /him/ shift on his feet at the end of the aisle, just like she was, anxious as hell. She felt like they had the same thoughts, the same itch. But at the same time she worried, because she knew that this was Damon, the man she'd built a life with for the past five years. But then he was Damon, the man who'd built a life with her for the past seven months.

Caroline abandoned her post, assuming that there was really nothing else for her to conduct. And besides, she wanted to see two of her best friends say their I dos. So she pecked Elena on the cheek, smiled, and grabbed Bonnie's arm as they went to sit on the patio. Just at the foot of Bonnie's garden that was blossoming with pansies and camellias stood Damon, wearing a suit that she knew he'd fussed about at some point in time. But she'd done him a favor. She dressed it down some, giving him a tie instead of a preppy bow.

As she stepped down the aisle, he was glued on her, watching her every move. He admired how absolutely gorgeous she was. That smile, those eyes, this woman— it made his heart swell. Jeremy stopped with her a few feet away, turning to give Damon a stern but knowing look as he let his sister go on behalf of a passed father.

"As always, Salvatore, you better do her right, or I'll kick your ass." He smiled.

"No worries, Little Gilbert. I plan on making her the happiest girl on Earth." Elena beamed as Jeremy kissed her cheek, leaving her at the altar as he gave a nod at the officiator of the wedding who, without surprise, was another Mikealson sibling, a justice of the peace no less.

"Are we ready?" said Klaus as he glanced between Damon and Elena, who were so honed in on one another, they almost didn't answer. Klaus began to read the proceedings, the "we're gathered here" and all that the two people of the day really wished he'd bypass. Damon was a smiling fool. He didn't take his eyes off Elena, how beautiful she looked in that dress, even though he could tell she was struggling a little. He loved every inch of her, from her head to her toes to the corners of her soul. And she was his. Her love was something he cherished. It was like nothing he'd ever felt, and he was happy it would be all he ever would. He just wished he could put it into words for her to hear.

"Elena," Klaus motioned, "Your vows?" Elena bit her lip, nervous and at the same silent roadblock as the man in front of her. So she just began where she left off.

"Ten years ago, I never would have believed I would be here. Pregnant, again. Marrying the best man I've ever met who is coincidentally Damon Salvatore. Having ridden out the most insane to stay with him. I would ride out any insane to be with you. And we've been through plenty of them together. Call of duties, Mary Jo, the past seven months- You had no idea who I was, but you let me help you anyways, because it was all I knew to do, as your wife. And you believed in me, even though you had no clue who I was. And now, we're back. And I think we may even be a little better. I'm ready to do this with you. I'm so glad you want /me/ as your wife, Damon. Because I love you more than anything in this world. I always will." Damon ran a palm over the back of his neck, letting out a low chuckle.

"Damn. How am I supposed to beat that?" A few soft laughs rose from their tiny crowd, but Damon reached out, taking Elena's hands, kissing the tips of her fingers as he tried to find a place to begin.

"Elena Marie Gilbert," he started, smiling at her. "No name means anything like that one. You're very much the best woman any guy could dream of. You've done so much for me. These past seven months have been a real roller coaster, but we're still here. You helped me. You did so much for me in a time when I didn't even know your name, and for that I'll always be grateful. I know it was hard. But you're strong. The strongest. We've been through a lot, I agree. But you're like this rock. My rock." He shifted on his feet, playing with her fingers as he pondered his next words. "I'm not the man I was before. I'm better. And I'm better for you, and because of you. It's not been a bed of roses, but we made it. And so much is because of you, Elena. And I love you. Everything about you. And I'm ready to do this with you, too, Gorgeous Gilbert." He grinned, Elena's brown eyes glassy with tears. "I love you. Then, before, always."

"Well then," Klaus shut his book, glancing between the two of them. "By the power vested in me by the state of Virginia, I pronounce you husband and wife."

Klaus needn't say anymore. Before Damon could do what he wanted, Elena did it for him. She pulled Damon to her, wrapping her arms about his neck and affirming their marriage with the kiss both of them were dying to have. Elena's heart was soaring, and couldn't stop smiling.

"Well, Mrs. Salvatore," he purred as he set her back down. "How do you feel?"

"Like the luckiest girl in the world." Elena was beaming.

"Kinda how I feel," Damon nodded as he took her hand, Klaus presenting them to the little gathering who sat at tables on the concrete lanai. Bonnie and Caroline were all misty-eyed, Rebekah not far behind them. The guys had all grouped up to avoid the emotional girls, passing thumbs up and approving nods to Damon.

"Mr. and Mrs. Salvatore," Elena repeated. "I could really get used to that."

"I love that dress you're wearing, babe," he spoke against her cheek as they swayed peacefully to the soft music that barely reached them from inside the house. Everybody else was mingling, talking, and passing out champagne. They had stolen away for a piece of quiet. The dark slowly fell around them, but it was peaceful. Elena was nestled against him, their hands curled into her chest where she played idly with his fingers as they danced. They hadn't said hardly anything the past ten minutes they'd been out here. They were just reveling in the series of fortunate events: the coming home, the wedding. Just being in one another's presence for the first time in four months was enough for either of them. He bent over her, gently kissing the bare crook of her neck, and he felt her cheeks lift as she smiled. His eyes grazed over her, seeing the buttons that lined her dress struggle a little to keep the two sides together where she was a little bigger. "It looks as good on you now as it did at that party in '09." Elena's head lifted, but she didn't look at him. Instead, she was considering what she'd just heard, thinking she was daydreaming.

"Did you say in '09?" she said slowly. She began to drift back a little.

"I did. Bonnie's Christmas 2009 to be exact." Elena was staggered.

"How do you know that? I mean—you're supposed to know, but you…you don't know. Do you?"

"I /do/ know. It was where I met you. Looking like a model out of a magazine. I was in love the second I saw you." Elena was silently dumbfounded.

"Who told you? Your brother? Jeremy?" He laughed, knowing this was exactly what she would do. Always went back to them, didn't it?

"No, babe! For real. I. Remember."

"…what?" She felt her heart start to flutter with excitement at the idea. She watched as his eyes crinkled with the curl of his lips.

"I got it back, babe. I remember everything." He grinned widely, proud that he could recall what she knew and he was supposed to. Not being able to had been a personal hell. Bits and pieces and chunks that made no sense—four months of that had been too much. Something he wouldn't wish on anyone. Elena was teared up, hands over her lips as she tried to form words.

"Damon, I…"

"I know," he smiled, taking her hand back into his. Her fingertips were cold, and he held them between his palms, trying to warm them. "Long story short: that last deployment really fixed me."

"This is literally the best day of my life," she sobbed a little as she took in a breath, draping her arms back around him. "I mean, it was before, but this just made it so much better."

A sharp chime began to ring from the grandfather clock inside, chiming out the ninth hour as they returned into each other's arms, ignoring the loud chatter between friends that mixed with it.

Never again would his wife have to worry or deal with the haunting things she had in the past. He was home, a return that was long overdue for Damon and Elena Salvatore.


	18. Bury

–

Elena stared at the number on the phone. It was the mortician, and she knew it was time. She wasn't ready. She'd never be ready. So instead of answering, she let it ring and swapped the ringer completely off. She made the long walk down the hall, looking for Damon. He was sitting on the bed, reading a gossip magazine that had been stuck in the bedside drawer for nearly two years.

"They called." It was all she had to say. It was the call they both dreaded. She waited for his reply, but he just kept reading.

"Damon."  
"I don't care. I'm not going." He was bitter. Not the Damon she knew. She felt sick all of the sudden.

"Damon, you have to go. We have to do this." He didn't answer. He was quiet, but he never turned a page. He wasn't reading. He was thinking and didn't want her here. Ever since he'd come home and discovered they were childless, he had been like this. No talking, no communicating. No comfort. She went over, yanking the book from his hands, flustered with his attitude. He wrung his hands and she saw his temper start to heat.

"I'm not going, Elena! Forget it." The seriousness on his face almost made him age. It was plain stubbornness and fear. But he wasn't letting himself buckle under the latter. Or at least that's what she knew he thought. She shook her head.

"I know it's scary, Damon, but we have to. It's for her."

"I don't care. I can't go. I refuse to." Elena stared at Damon, unable to comprehend what level he was on at this current moment. He was supposed to help her in this. To aid her. She couldn't do it alone. Not without a total breakdown. She was already surfing the cusp of one now.

"Are you expecting me to do all of this?" she squeaked, slamming a vinyl binder against the bed beside him. "Caskets, burial plots, headstones? Damon, I need you. Please, just come. _Please._" Damon watched her hard and long, studying her it seemed. What was there to think about? He had to go. He _had to. _If he wasn't there, she couldn't get through it. He finally spoke, licking his lips like some huge debate was bartering itself in his mind. He looked down, then back to her, and spoke so softly it shattered her heart.

"Someone has to. But that someone's not me."

Elena took heavy breaths, trying to keep herself from panicking. She found the binder and quickly left the house. She had to go to the funeral home, but she couldn't go alone. She felt her chest constrict with the pure idea of walking through a display of coffins the size of Damon's shoe box. She drove, her mind so flooded she didn't realize that she passed the home and was parked in Bonnie's driveway. Her front door swung open as she got out of the car, Bonnie carrying a plate in her arms.

"Elena? I was just coming ov-"

"Bonnie." Bonnie's own stomach twisted into knots at the sight of her best friend's pain. She was still clinging the white binder to her chest, her face red and soaked. She set her comfort food on the hood of her car and wrapped her arms around Elena. Bonnie's eyes welled up too, hating to see this tragedy hit so close to home. All the time they saw people coming in with lifeless tiny bodies, but never would she have dreamed it would happen to someone she loved so dearly.

"I can't go, Bonnie. I can't do it by myself. Please." Elena was a mess, and Bonnie suddenly realized Damon was nowhere to be found. Suddenly her sadness began to morph into hot anger.

"Where's Damon?" Elena shook her head.

"He's not coming. I begged for him to."

"Why not?" Elena swallowed, biting back her tears as she cleared her throat.

"Someone has to, but not him." She bit out the words, and it was no question that was a quote. Bonnie stared at Elena for a long, excruciating minute. Damon said something like that? To her? She didn't doubt the words, but she couldn't believe he would do this to her. Not just now, but ever. She fought the urge to tear to other end of town and gathered Elena, helping her into the passenger side of the car.

"I'll deal with him later," Bonnie fumed, starting the SUV up and heading towards the morgue.

Inside the funeral home, they were greeted with apologies for their loss. Elena felt like just running away, but she was managing to pull herself together enough to get this finished. She could fall apart later. An older woman dressed in a dank gray suit was their attendant. She took Elena's book, where she'd circled a hundred different things, unable to pick and completely without opinion from Damon. She led Bonnie and Elena down a quiet hall and swung open a set of double doors. Caskets were lined down the white-wash walls and mounted on them as displays. As they paced through, Elena noticed that there were a hundred different colors and sizes. Everything from black to pink to white and stained wood. A box. The last place anyone went.

In the back corner, three tiny caskets were on a single table. One was jet black with silver handles. Plain and simple. Another was white, adorned with gaudy nursery animals like gargoyles inset in the corners. The third, though, hurt. It was gorgeously stained wood with gold-capped edges. Oak, just like the wood of her crib. It matched it perfectly, down to the white lining. A sob escaped Elena as she touched the satiny material.

"This one," she spat out before the woman could even begin to speak. "I want this one." Bonnie gave Elena's hand a squeeze. Elena closed her eyes. It was silent for too long, and she was sure the woman was about to try and convince her of something else.

"Can we move on, please?" The attendant nodded and pulled out the binder, telling her that they could do a memorial service the coming Thursday. A burial would precede the following morning, around ten.

"I hate to say that it'll be snowing. If it's an option, we can do all the services tomorrow, and it won't be so drawn out." Elena's heart stopped. Tomorrow? Bury her tomorrow? In snow?

"Snow? It's supposed to snow?"

"Several inch-"

"No. No, I can't...do that. I can't put my baby in the ground." Elena shook.

"Elena, it's okay," Bonnie whispered in an effort to calm her, but it was useless.  
"It's cold, Bonnie. It's too cold for a baby." She knew she sounded like a lunatic, but she couldn't put her child in the icy ground. She just couldn't. The woman didn't flinch. She saw this everyday, and Elena was no exception.

"You can always cremate her. You don't have to bury her that way. She can go back home with you, if that's what you want to do." Elena rubbed her eyes, completely lost on what to do. She needed Damon. She needed him so bad. But he wasn't here. She looked over to Bonnie, who nodded her head in agreement. That was what Elena needed to do, she thought. She'd never be able to live with her baby in Mystic Falls Cemetery.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay," Elena nodded. "Can we do that? Please." The woman nodded, scratching something out of the book and writing over it. She mumbled some words to herself, squinting through a pair of reading glasses as she double-checked her work. She closed the book and then looked to Elena.

"The memorial service will still be Thursday. If that's okay, we'll go down here to the holding room, and you can see her." The woman gestured down the hall and then led the way, but Elena didn't follow. This was the part she dreaded the most. She stared at the door as the woman wretched it open and disappeared inside. A panel of steel was on the opposite wall and it sent a chill down her spine.

"I can't do this, Bonnie. I can't see her. I can't-"

"Elena, calm down. If you don't, you'll regret it. You'll wish you had." Elena shook her head vigorously. She couldn't imagine that was possible. She wanted to remember Mary Jo as the little girl with the blue eyes and the most amazing smile a baby could have. Not as a corpse. Not as a memory. That's all she had anymore. A memory. She clung to it, and she didn't want to soil it with the sight of her tiny lifeless body on a table. She began to wring her hands and tried to talk Bonnie out of going.

"Just take me home," she whispered in a sob as Bonnie guided her towards the morgue door. "I'll be fine. I can tell Damon. It'll be fine. Please, Bon-" Elena stopped her pleas as Bonnie got her inside. The woman had rolled back a sheet that was covering a tiny mound on the table to show Mary Jo. She was still, silent. Elena stared, putting a hand across her face. She didn't even look real. She was dressed in the white gown Elena had given to the undertaker. She looked like she was just sleeping. That beautiful, restful sleep that only babies got. Elena slowly stepped closer. She touched her hand, wishing so much she could feel her squeeze it again. But she wasn't. She wouldn't. She was cold as ice, and it coursed through Elena's own veins. Gently, she brushed the top of Mary Jo's head with her fingers, the wispy hair there just as soft as down. Elena leaned over the table, pressing her lips against her cheek.  
"I'm so sorry, my angel baby. _I am so sorry._" Elena sobbed, her lips still against Mary Jo. She dared to slowly pull away the sheet, finding her tiny feet were bare. Elena rubbed her thumbs over the soles of them, and reached into her purse. A single pair of socks were left, and they were adorned with Mary Jo's initials. She pulled them apart and gingerly slid each one over her tiny feet as if it were nothing more than her every-day duty.

"Your daddy wanted to come, but he was scared. He wanted the same thing I did. He wanted to remember you like the baby you are that made us so happy. But I had to see you just one last time." Elena gently squeezed her feet as she finished putting the socks over them, debating on whether she wanted to hold her baby again. "Mommy and Daddy love you more than anything in this world, Mary Jo." She cradled the chubby cheeks between her hands, and placed the very last kiss across her daughter's forehead. It took her too long to tear away, and Bonnie finally took her hand and started to pull her back.

"I'm okay," Elena said as soon as the doors shut behind them. "I'm...I'm okay." Bonnie pulled Elena into a hug and held her there, the shakiness in her friend's voice doubting. She trembled and struggled for a breath, trying to hold herself together.

"How did she look?"

"Like a doll," Elena whispered truthfully, running a hand over her face. "I wish Damon were here."

"We'll leave as soon as we can. You're going to get through this. With or without him," Bonnie reminded her.

"I know. I think I'm okay. Right now." She tried to smile through tears at her best friend, thankful that she was here. If she was alone, she'd be a messy heap in the floor. Behind them, the woman was back, this time holding a piece of paper with pictures of jewelry across it. Elena was confused, but she didn't have the chance to ask what it was.

"I know this is odd, but many people put their loved one's ashes into jewelry. The metal is filled with them. They can even make diamonds out of them now. It's a beautiful way to have them with you always." The last line sounded like a sales pitch, but Elena was deeply interested. She didn't want to spread Mary Jo's ashes. She wasn't ready for that. But if she did this, it would be better. It would be something symbolic, and something beautiful. Just like her. A smattering of cuts and settings were on the page. By the time she was finished evaluating every one, she had set a lapis stone in each ring, and diamonds adorned it on a silver setting that would be filled with the baby's ashes.

"That wasn't too weird was it, Bonnie?" Elena asked in the car once they had left. "I mean, is it?" Next to her, Bonnie was smiling.

"Elena, I think it's beautiful. My family has worn ashes of others for centuries. It's coping." She parked the car in the driveway of the house and reached for her dish. "I made you and Damon Grams' cherry crumble. I know it's your favorite." Elena gave her the first smile she could muster in a while.

"Thank you, Bonnie." She watched as she set it on the stove, her eyes immediately searching the room for Damon. He was on the other side of the kitchen, leaned against the wall with a well-dosed glass of bourbon in hand and a tired look upon his face. It was probably because, like her, he hadn't slept in nearly 40 hours. Bonnie was glaring daggers at him, but he didn't seem to notice. Elena took her hand, trying to prevent her from coming undone with him.

"It's okay, Bon. I'll be fine. I promise. I'll call you, alright?" Bonnie looked to her friend, her tired, worn out, and grief-stricken best friend. She was exhausted, mentally and physically. She had a husband with a coping issue and an attitude problem. She wanted to be here, just in case he went asinine fool. But she nodded. It was reluctant, but she agreed and left. "You know where I am, Lena."

Elena collapsed into the chair. Damon watched her every move, swishing the glass in his hand thoughtfully. He didn't seem to notice her bloodshot eyes or her near-asleep mental capacity. He didn't bother to move either.

"How did it go?" She looked up to him, wondering how well /this/ was going to go. "Which one did you get?"

"I...I didn't. I didn't buy a casket." She sat up a little in her seat. She felt drunk on deprivation, and on some level she really wanted that glass in Damon's hand.

"You didn't buy a casket? Where have you been, then?" Elena began unbuckling her tall boots and shedding her layers. It was supposed to snow. And it felt it.

"Funeral home. I didn't have her embalmed. I decided to have her cremated." She tossed a boot against the wall, not caring for once if it was in its place or not. Damon stared at her as she worked, completely in shock.

"Cremated? I thought we agreed to bury her. We were going to pick out a casket." He sounded panicked. Elena shook her head. We? There was no we in what had just happened.  
"I couldn't."

"Couldn't?! What do you mean? Elena, you can't burn her. It's just wrong!" Elena met his gaze, finding it absolutely terrifying. He was mad. Furious. She began to falter. She'd never seen him mad.

"Damon, you don't understand. It snows the day they would do the burial. I couldn't. I couldn't put her in the ground."  
"We agreed to BURY her! And you went and did what you wanted to anyways!" Elena coughed.

"What I wanted to? I want to not have to deal with any of this, so if you're implying something, take it in mind I was ALONE today. Because I wanted to deal with the death of my baby as a fucking New Year's kick off celebration!" She flung herself out of the chair and went down the hall, but Damon was right behind her. He grabbed her arm to make her stop, and it took everything she had not to slap him.  
"You should have called."

"You should have come," she spat back, and yanked her arm from his grasp. "I asked you to, remember?"

"I couldn't. Go," he said through a clenched jaw, eyes burning into her like hot irons. "You don't understand." Elena coughed a laugh, staring at the man before her with incredulity.

"/I/ don't understand? I can't believe you just had the audacity to say that to me." She went into the bedroom, feeling like she was about to bust out of her skin with anger and upset. Damon was being totally selfish. Yes, she understood he was hurting; so was she. But he didn't have to turn into this stone-cold version of himself. It was like he was in military mode, trying to block it all out. Block her out.

"I loved her."

"And I didn't?! Christ, Damon, I tried to do what I thought was best."

"Well it was wrong. You should've thought again." He was icy, and his words hit her worse than a truck. He was judging her. Staring, she was bewildered he would do such a thing. He was always so accepting. Especially of her. Now she felt like a cattle call. She felt like she didn't know this person standing in her bedroom.

"I can't be here right now," she quaked, and she even considered finding a bag. His demeanor made her nervous as hell. He wasn't going to listen. He was very much checked out. "I'm going to Bonnie's. If you decide that you want to talk, call." Elena threw a menagerie of clothes into a bag, not really caring if they matched or not. And for good measure, she went to the closet and found a black dress and pair of shoes, and found the necklace Damon gave her the day Mary Jo was born.

Damon didn't watch. He was in the other room, probably a sip away from wasted on alcohol. Then again, he wasn't too much a lightweight when it came to his booze. He was furious with Elena. The idea of turning his baby daughter to ashes wouldn't settle with him. She deserved a burial and be laid to rest. Not to be baked in an oven. It was sickening a thought. He couldn't believe Elena had forgone what they had settled on. He was hurt, but he was pissed all the more. He heard his truck rev to life in the garage and, at some point, it faded away.

–

Bonnie moved as calmly as she could through the visitor's area of the funeral home. For a tiny baby, there were tons of people here. But they were here in support of Elena and Damon. Damon, the local war hero. He was of high respect in this town, though he thought nothing of it. He was too humble. Though now, with the way he was acting, he earned nothing but a kick in the ass. And Bonnie wanted to personally deliver it. He made her blood boil. Elena showing up on her doorstep with a suitcase was the last thing she expected, and that she had to do it now only made the entire issue worse. She wove through clumps of people, conversing and socializing, until she spotted Damon in the far corner. He was chatting with two people she knew, but couldn't recall their names. She waited until they left, and approached him head-on.

"You need to get your act together, Damon. Elena is hurting, and you're ignoring her like the goddamn plague."  
"I think you should mind your own business, /Bonnie,/ and move along," Damon hissed, trying his best at ignoring her too. Ignoring Bonnie? Those words were an impossible fit. Who was he kidding?

"Elena is my business. She's my best friend, and if there's something wrong she can't handle, I'm going to fix it."

"There's nothing to 'fix' here."  
"Oh there's plenty," she laughed dryly. "I get you're pissed, Damon. But could you not see past it long enough to get through this?" Damon cringed. Look past Elena burning his child? Was she nuts?

"Look, Elena and I made an agreement-"  
"I know. I don't need a recount. I know what you two decided on. But if you'd have came, like a good man would have, we wouldn't be in this situation. You may be a good father, but you're being a shitty boyfriend to Elena." Bonnie angrily glared, holding back her every instinct to hit him, and went into the opposite room to find her friend.

Elena was putting on her makeup in the mirror of Bonnie's SUV. She was late, of all things. She barely could get out of bed this morning. She'd indulged in a bottle of wine with Bonnie the night before, riled with nerves over the memorial service. There wasn't much to this poor baby's life, but the people that were here made Elena so grateful. When people realized they didn't arrive together, small town jaws started flapping, but Elena didn't let it concern her. People were already seated, the front pew marked in reserve for family only. She sat next to Damon, Stefan, Giuseppe, and Mary respectively on her opposite side. Mary's ivory skin blotched to hell and back with her emotions and hot-flashes. She gave her daughter-in-law a careful, sad smile when she passed, and Elena tried so hard to match it. Jeremy rose and enfolded his sister into his arms, holding her tight.

"Sorry, Lena," he whispered, then kissed her cheek before she sat. Damon was cleaned up, dressed in a suit he never wore but fit him like a glove. Attention trained to the front of the room, he never tore his gaze from the altar. Mary Jo was there in an urn of alabaster. Around her there were mounds of flowers of every sort, statues of angels with gift tags attached. Elena put her hand to her lips, wanting to go back home.

/I don't think I can do this,/ she said loud enough for her to just hear, feeling herself sink into a state that wobbled on the line of nervous shaking and numbness. Matt climbed to the pulpit, Bible in hand. He wasn't a pastor, but he was one of Elena's best friends. And best to say, he was the only one that would be able to give a eulogy without falling to pieces. She had made him promise not to call her forward. It was customary for the mother to speak, evidently. Elena just couldn't.

Matty looked to where Mary Jo's altar was and laid his Bible on the surface of the podium. He drummed his fingers anxiously against it, then finally he began.

"I didn't prepare for this. Elena kind of asked me on the fly if I would. I couldn't say no." He cracked that boyish grin at her, the one that was just Matty, but it was laced with sorrow, just like all the others here. She barely smiled back and continued to listen.

"I know you can't say how great of a person a baby was. Or any of that usual stuff you say about people. She's just a baby. But she was one hell of a character. And I'm pretty sure if she could have talked, she'd been like her dad, because she was...gah. I don't know."

"Sassy," Elena piped up in a watery tone. Matt pointed a finger with a laugh.

"Sassy. That's a good word for her. I love that kid." He scratched the back of his neck, choosing his next words carefully. "But I don't love her as much as Damon and Elena. They say there's no love like that of a parent and a child, and I believe it. When Vicki died, my mom never really was herself again. It changed her a lot. I can't imagine that sort of grief. Grief that changes you. Mary Jo lit up our little circle. I hate to see people I care about have to endure that, but we know that she's in a better place. It tears me up, but I like to think she's up there with Vicki. Mister and Miss Gilbert. I know they love her just as much as we do. Now, I think we should have a moment of silence for Mary." People began to rise, not a voice in the crowd.

"Actually, I would like to say something before we do." Elena blinked, hearing Damon speak for the first time in days. Matt looked to him and nodded, scooting to the side for Damon to have the stage. Slowly he ascended, playing with the baby's obituary in his hands. His brows knit together, concentrating as he set it down. Elena was terrified.

"I have two days that are the best of my life. One was the day I met Elena. The other is the day Elena gave us Mary Jo. She was like nothing I'd ever seen. She was my child. Damon Salvatore with a kid was about the biggest pile of crap I'd ever heard. Much less people I knew. I wasn't a kid person. Dogs are more my speed." A few people chuckled, Elena included. "But when that baby came out of the nursery and I held her..." He looked down at empty open hands, silent for a moment. "Best moment of my life. There's nothing like that. I'll never be able to thank Elena enough. She came right after I got back from Iraq. I was hurt. I wasn't...myself." He was sparing details, and Elena cringed slightly at the memories. He saw her, too. "She showed me how there's always something good, somewhere. Even when there's so much bad. She was the perfect amount of good for me. She helped me more than any quack doctor or drugs could. I love her more than anything for that." Damon looked down to the woman on the front pew with all her makeup on a tissue in her hands, her cheeks and eyes red, completely exhausted. He still found her beautiful. "Elena, baby, I'm sorry." She rolled her lips and closed her eyes, nodding at the voice she knew. It was a universal sorry. She could tell. His apology for the things he said, the way he acted. For their current misfortune. Elena rose from her seat and went up to him, wrapping her arms around him. She just needed to be with him. Grieve with him. He understood her pain. He was finally letting his walls down. She had to act on it while she could, or he'd shut her out again and they'd be in the same spot for God knows how long. She buried her face into his shoulder, yet more tears streaming as she finally felt his embrace. The quiet of the room was stiff. Matt waved, and people rose to continue their moment of silence for their baby girl.


End file.
